Song of the Mermaid
by mistwolf42
Summary: A trade agreement brings Arthur and Merlin to a fishing village called Halen. But before long, a mystery accompanies their visit. Men have been going missing, with no bodies being discovered. Merlin suspects magic, and when Arthur goes missing, too, it becomes clear that he's right. How far will Merlin go in order to save Arthur from sea women with a taste for blood? No slash.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** I suppose this is one of those "Lucy, you have some 'splaining to do" times. Yes, hello there, it's me again. With another fanfiction. Yay! It being summer now for me, I'm finally able to pick up my pen (or, I guess my laptop, since I type this stuff) and write once more. So I'm back with another classic multi-fic. I hope you enjoy it. Once again I'll be posting once a week (on a Monday or something).

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**Rating: K+ **(For the moment. May switch it to T later if it calls for it, but you never know what mermaids will be like)

**Pairing:** Arwen (Arthur x Gwen)

**Plot:** A trade issue finds Arthur and Merlin in a small fishing village on the sea. But wherever these two go, trouble follows. Several fishermen have gone missing, and no bodies have been found. Merlin begins to suspect magic, and when Arthur, too, disappears, it becomes clear that he's right. But just how far is the warlock willing to go to free Arthur from the grips of beautiful sea women with a taste for human flesh?

**Setting:** Early series 4

**Warning:** Like before, I do not claim to own _Merlin_, it's characters, or its plots. This is a story inspired by the show, and all credit goes to the brilliant BBC writers who made this show, for however brief a time, a reality. Please enjoy.

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**Prologue-**

"I can't _believe_ this!" Maria screamed at her husband. Three months! Three months they'd been married, and already he was running around after some other woman! Three months and he was already turning a blind eye to her and sneaking out nightly to see this other girl in the tavern. Maria knew! She'd followed him and found him sitting at a table, the little _wench_ in his arms, sitting on his lap, cooing over him. She'd been so disgusted she'd run home and stayed awake, waiting for him to come back just so she could give him a piece of her mind.

Three months! And this was what happened. Honestly, this is _not_ what she expected marriage to be like.

"You followed me, you little spy!" Thomas spat back. His eyes flashed with anger as he advanced on her, his face contorted in rage. "I saw you sneaking in the window in the tavern. You little….How dare you spy on me?"

"Why shouldn't I?" Maria demanded back, instinctively backing away from him, placing a chair between her and her irate husband. He was drunk, she could tell by the stench of alcohol on his breath. But there was something more. Something that made her skin tingle slightly. There was something…off in his eyes. Yes, they were shining like a drunk lunatic, but there was something deeper. A strange pulsing anger that she'd never seen in him before. And though she didn't want to believe it, it scared her.

"I wanted to know why you would come home so late! Why you would sneak out in the middle of the night! I wanted to know why you were barely speaking to me lately! And now I know why!" Her face was flushed with anger, but it was nothing in comparison to the primal twist of Thomas's lips as he advanced on her once again. Maria stepped away from her chair-shield and tried to back up more, but he grabbed her wrist and shoved her up against the cold, clammy stone wall of their tiny home. He leered in her face.

"I do what I want, _woman_," he snarled at her. "And you can't keep me from seeing her."

"What's _her_ name?" Maria demanded, trying not to cringe at the way he was crushing her wrist in his large, meaty hand, trying not to shudder at the pulsing fire behind his green irises. She had no idea what had brought on this sudden, horrifying change in his behavior, but it scared and infuriated her at the same time. And she wanted to know why.

"That's none of your business!" he yelled, then with a flick of his powerful arm, honed from years of pulling up nets of fish from the ocean's dark depths, he tossed her to the side as if she was nothing more than a ragdoll. Maria landed on the floor in a heap and struggled to climb back to her feet.

Thomas was stalking towards the door, and Maria's eyes narrowed with anger. No way she was letting him go out again, to be with his _new_ girl.

"No!" she yelled and leaped to her feet. She ran forward and blocked the door, cutting off his access to the foggy darkness outside. She stood her ground, barring the wooden door. "I won't let you go back out there tonight."

"You can't tell me what to do!" he yelled at her. "Get out of my way!"

"Not on your life," Maria growled, her eyes narrowing, daring him to do something about it.

To her astonishment, he did.

Once more that huge, meaty fist clamped around her wrist, and though she fought to keep her ground he flung her to the side. Once more, Maria's slim body met the floor as she crashed down onto the hard, stone ground. She struggled to rise again and glared wickedly up at him.

"This isn't the man I married," she said as he began to pull open the heavy wooden door. Tendrils of mist crept into the house's interior, made to seem almost like sentient fingers as they were colored by the flickering fire in the hearth on the far side of the room.

Thomas paused for a moment and looked back at her. Their eyes met, and Maria stared up into the face of her husband who now suddenly seemed so foreign and unrecognizable, like she didn't even know who he was.

And for a moment, it almost seemed like this new, strange façade suddenly faded, and she could see the man she once knew underneath. His eyes gentled for a moment, the anger and primal ferocity left his weather-beaten face, and he looked down at his young wife with something almost akin to fear and confusion.

But then it was gone, and the anger came back tenfold. Her Thomas was gone.

"I don't care about the Thomas you married," he snarled at her. "Don't stand in my way, you sniveling brat."

With that, he turned and stomped out of the doorway into the darkness beyond. The door slammed shut behind him, and Maria could hear his heavy boots pounding the damp cobblestone streets outside. Only when she could not hear that sound anymore did she allow herself to burst into tears.

* * *

When Maria awoke the next morning, Thomas was not there. At some point in the night, she had managed to crawl onto her bedroll near the hearth. His remained empty, and when morning light, made grey and pallid by the mist that hung low over the tiny seaside town, filtered through the dirty windowpanes Maria found that his blankets were unused, and his presence was absent from the house.

Then there was a pounding on the door. Maria's heart leaped into her throat as she scrambled to her feet and hurried to find who had come to her home. She half feared, half hoped it would be Thomas, either home to apologize or to fight some more.

But, why would he be knocking?

Maria pulled open the heavy wooden door, disappointed to see that the outside world was still veiled in damp mist. But she was even more disappointed to see that her morning visitor was not Thomas, but a wife of another fisherman. Maria knew her only too well, as the wives of the fishermen tended to band together to support each other whilst their husbands were on long, dangerous trips, and being from such a small town, everyone knew everyone else.

Maria knew this woman who was so often a happy, smiling, cheerful young woman who was always ready to encourage. So Maria knew that there was something very wrong when she saw a look of pure fear and anxiety etched onto the woman's young features.

"Maria," she said, her voice tight. "You need to come down to the docks. Now."

And so she did.

And there was many a night after that she wished she had not. Down near the docks that jutted out into the sea and gave safe harbor to the many fishing boats that belonged to the men of the village, was a small crowd of onlookers. They were down on the beach, crowded around something which Maria could not see from this distance. She quickened her pace, anxious to find what had the crowd so intrigued.

She pressed past two fishermen and when it was understood who she was, she was let through easily.

When Maria finally was able to fight her way through the crowd and lay eyes on what had them so shocked, her eyes widened and her hands went to her mouth.

It was Thomas's fishing boat.

Its state was shocking. The small, two-man vessel was smashed in on one side, its mast broken and dragging the sail in the sand. Ocean water washed over the beaten and broken wooden boards that made up the hull. But what was most shocking was the long, claw-like marks along its sides, as if some creature had dug its talons into the wood.

"We found it this morning," a deep voice said behind her. Maria glanced with tear-filled eyes, toward one of the fishermen, one whom she had seen many times. His usually rough, stoic face was pale. "I never seen nothin' like it b'fore."

"Where's Thom?" were the only words that Maria could force out of her lips. "And Teague?"

Teague was Thomas's fishing partner. If Thomas had gone missing from this boat, than Teague would be gone, too, surely.

"Teague wasn't with 'im," the fisherman replied. "I saw 'im go out late last night. No one with 'im. Then this morning….this appeared."

"Where's Thomas?" Maria whimpered again, her voice catching in her throat. "Where's my husband?"

A heavy hand was rest upon her shoulder, but Maria didn't look to see who it was, because her eyes were closed tightly and tears were streaming down her cheeks.

"We don't know," another voice said. "Thom is gone."

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**A/N:** I must apologize for a Arthur/Merlin-less chapter, but as the title of this chapter says it is a _Prologue_, and therefore is merely here to set the stage for the rest of the story. Merlin and Arthur will be appearing in the next chapter, so I hope you come back and read!


	2. Tales of the Sea

**A/N:** Sorry for leaving you guys with just that Prologue chapter, but it really is vital for the background of the story. However, I'm excited to see that even starting with a chapter that doesn't mention either of our heroes, there's still an interest in this story I'm writing. But, anyways, here comes the next chapter, finally with some Merlin and Arthur action. Enjoy. :)

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**Chapter 1- Tales of the Sea**

It was bright and early in the morning in Camelot. Much too early, if you asked Merlin. But, Arthur had insisted that they get an early start in order to get to Halen by afternoon tomorrow. Still, it hadn't kept Merlin from complaining to Arthur about how ridiculous it was to be awake so early. After all, if he could annoy his master, even waking up before sunrise was worth it.

And despite the early morning, and the promise of getting to spend almost two days on horseback and sleeping somewhere in the middle of some God-forsaken forest, Merlin was actually rather excited about this trip. Two days ago a party of knights had returned from a scouting expedition on the far side of the kingdom, bringing news that there was a trade issue centering in the small seaside town of Halen that affected a neighboring kingdom. Merlin wasn't entirely sure what the issue was, but Arthur had decided that it was necessary he ride out to this fishing village in order to settle the dispute.

And though Merlin had done his typical griping simply to annoy Arthur, he was secretly looking forward to this trip. After all, being raised in the mountain town of Ealdor, and spending most of his time in and around Camelot, Merlin had never before seen the ocean. He'd read of it, of course, and had learned of the creatures that lived beneath its salty waters from Gaius's books, but this would be his first time actually laying eyes on the sea. He had to admit, he was excited.

Not that he'd tell Arthur, though. Where'd the fun in that be?

"_Mer_lin!"

_Speaking of…_

Merlin looked up from where he was just tightening the girth of Arthur's horse. Arthur was striding down the stone steps that descended into the courtyard. His red cloak flapped in the wind behind him. Merlin smirked slightly. Not only was he wearing the red cape, which he hated, but he was also wearing the crown. Typically, Arthur wore either as little as possible. But he was the king and royal business such as this…errand, of sorts, required that he actually looked like the King of Camelot.

"Yes, sire?" Merlin called back. Arthur finished his descent and came to stand beside his servant and the chestnut horse said servant was currently preparing.

"Is my horse ready yet?" he asked

"Almost, Arthur," Merlin replied.

"You said that fifteen minutes ago when I asked last," Arthur argued as he glared at his black-haired manservant who was just finishing the adjustments to the horse's saddle.

"That's because," Merlin replied, giving the chestnut stallion one last look-over. "You're horse can be as surly as you in the mornings."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Arthur responded airily. Merlin smirked.

"I'm sure you don't," he replied. Arthur glared at his cheeky servant.

"And what are you smiling about, _Mer_lin?" he demanded. "I should have you saddled up instead of the horse."

Merlin opened his mouth to respond, but didn't get the chance. Someone spoke for him, instead.

"Arthur, stop teasing him," a light, feminine voice rebuked the young king. Merlin smiled and watched as Guinevere swept over to where royal and servant stood. She placed a slim, dark hand on Arthur's shoulder. She smirked up at him, and the annoyed veneer he typically employed when regarding his manservant melted away as the King of Camelot looked down at his one true love. Though Merlin knew that Gwen was only a servant girl, and therefore not technically worthy of marrying a King, he hoped that one day soon Arthur would make the lovely dark-skinned and kind-hearted girl his queen. Everyone one could see how much they loved each other.

"Well," Arthur said in response to Gwen's words, a smile dancing on his face. "I suppose I'll let him off _this_ time."

Merlin rolled his eyes and finished his inspection of Arthur's horse.

"It's ready, Arthur," he said. The sound of hoof beats told him that the rest of the small guard they were taking to Halen – including Leon and Gwaine – were ready and waiting to ride out. Arthur looked up and nodded.

"Good. Finally. Only took you two years," he said, casually slipping back into the banter which made up more than half of the way that Merlin and Arthur talked to each other.

"Only so you don't blame me for not inspecting your saddle if you fall off again," Merlin replied as he held the reigns at the horse's head. "How many times would that be? Five?"

Arthur raised a finger and pointed it at Merlin, opened his mouth to speak, but once more Gwen came to the black haired servant's rescue.

"Arthur," she said, grabbing his arm. He turned to look at her, though Merlin caught the glance that the young king threw over his shoulder that clearly said, "I'll get you later." Merlin smirked, knowing that somewhere in the trail he'd pay for that. But for now, it had been worth it.

"You will be safe, won't you?" Guinevere asked him, her dark eyes wide. Arthur smiled gently down at her.

"Of course I will," he assured her. "You stay here and make sure Aggravaine is alright. I'll be back as soon as we get this trade dispute settled."

That was one of the reasons Merlin was also so secretly excited to go on this trip. Arthur had managed to convince Aggravaine to remain behind and take care of business while Arthur was away. Although Arthur's uncle had initially protested, he eventually had submitted to Arthur's wishes. Merlin was glad of that. He knew that Aggravaine wasn't as pure as Arthur took him to be, and this time the young warlock was just relieved he wouldn't have to spend the entire trip protecting his master from both his uncle, and any other thing that wanted to kill the King of Camelot.

Gwen hugged Arthur one last time before he mounted his horse, and Arthur returned her affection with a small, concealed kiss. No need to draw attention to themselves, but Merlin saw it. The servant smiled softly to himself. Maybe one day they would be open with their affection – when Guinevere was queen.

Arthur swung easily up into the saddle, and Merlin handed him the reigns before he mounted his own horse, which had been waiting patiently to the side.

"Ready?" Arthur called to the two knights and handful of guards he'd selected for this trip. Since they were staying within the boundaries of Camelot, and since the reason for his trip was political agreements and not war or treaty-making, Arthur had decided to bring as few men as possible. Besides himself and Merlin, there were Leon and Gwaine, plus two guards. Only a small party, but safe in case of any sudden intense action. Not that they were expecting any.

"Waiting on you, Princess," Gwaine called back, a smirk on his bearded face. Arthur obviously chose to ignore the remark.

"Then let's ride," he said in a voice that immediately made Merlin see the wise, great ruler that Arthur would someday be. With one last smile to Gwen, Arthur kicked his horse into a canter and rode out of the gates of Camelot. Merlin was right there at his side, his own dark mount keeping easily up with Arthur's, despite the extra weight of the provisions for the journey. Merlin sarcastically figured that the weight was about equal to what Arthur's mount carried, what with the young king plus the armor he was wearing. But the servant decided to save that particular comment for right now.

The party passed through the gates of Camelot and onto the road that took them from the beautiful, great city and into the forest beyond.

And just this once, Merlin allowed himself to hope that this trip would be uneventful.

* * *

They did not stop to rest until late that night. Merlin understood why, for Halen was only supposed to be a two day ride from the gates of Camelot, and Arthur wanted to make sure they got to the small seaside town as quickly as they could. But by the time Arthur did decide to call it a day, Merlin was practically ready to fall off his horse. He was sore, exhausted, and felt like his bones would never stop rattling after being on a horse all day. And, of course, it was nowhere near over the servant. While the knights, guards, and Arthur were able to rest after dismounting, Merlin was, of course, given the task of setting up a cook fire (which he cheated on and said a spell to start the fire when no one was looking), fetching water for and rubbing down the horses, fetching water for the men, and then preparing and cooking dinner for the entire group, which of course he'd have to clean up after they were finished. By the time the stew he'd prepared was being devoured by Arthur, Gwaine, Leon, and the guards, Merlin was too tired to eat. Instead, he gathered up the dirty dishes and rinsed them out before stumbling back to camp and practically falling onto his bedroll.

"Good stew tonight, Merlin," Gwaine said, but there was a teasing glint in his eye, and Merlin knew what was coming. "Needed more salt, though."

"The last time you said that, I added more salt," Merlin complained. "And then you said it tasted like the ocean."

"Only because it did," Leon put in, getting in on the "let's tease Merlin" routine. Merlin glared at the knight.

"Get off it, Leon," Gwaine joked. "You've probably never tasted _real_ sea water."

"Have you?" Merlin asked, his exhaustion not hurting his sense of curiosity. "Been to the ocean, I mean."

"Of course I have!" Gwaine said, sweeping his sword in an arch around him, taking in the entire forest. "I've been almost everywhere a man can be on this earth. I've seen the ocean plenty of times."

"What about Halen?" Merlin asked. "Have you been there?"

Gwaine shrugged.

"Once or twice. Interesting place."

Merlin's cerulean eyes narrowed. When Gwaine said that someplace was "interesting", it usually didn't mean that the architecture was a little odd.

"How so?" he pressed.

"Well," Gwaine informed those around him. "The people of Halen for a long time said that they have mermaids, living off the coast."

Merlin looked slightly confused.

"What's a mermaid?" he asked, puzzled. He hadn't read about those in Gaius's books before.

"They're fish people," Gwaine continued. "Or, more like fish _women_. They say they're beautiful: half gorgeous woman, half scaly fish. But there's more to them than that. They're man eaters: they draw people into the sea, and then devour them. They love blood, and they'll do anything to get it."

Merlin shuddered.

"And…we're going there?" he said with a frown. He was beginning to think that his excitement for this trip was mistaken. But at that point, Leon guffawed.

"Good story," the older knight said, clapping Gwaine on the shoulder. He smiled over at Merlin. "Don't worry, Merlin. It's just a story. There's nothing you have to worry about. Halen doesn't have any 'man eating fish-women.' Just some fisherman who don't like the prices they're being offered for their fish."

"Are you sure?" Merlin wasn't convinced. With everything he'd seen, there were few things he _didn't_ believe in anymore.

"Leon's right," Gwaine said, punching Merlin lightly in the shoulder as he stood and walked past. "The story is hundreds of years old. But," he lowered his voice conspiratorially, a teasing glimmer still in his eyes. "I'd stay away from the water if I was you. Never know what's hiding under the waves."

Leon and Gwaine laughed, but Merlin couldn't entirely find joy in the telling of this story. Over the years he'd served Arthur in Camelot, he had begun to understand that most of the "stories" told around the campfire had at least a grain of truth to them: and that grain of truth usually ended up being something very nasty and bloodthirsty.

"We should call it a night," Arthur announced, oblivious to the story that his knights had been tormenting his servant with. Personally, Merlin was glad of that. If Arthur got wind that Merlin was being spooked by a campfire story, he'd never hear the end of it. "If we ride out early tomorrow morning, we should be in Halen by late tomorrow night."

The knights and guards agreed, and only a few minutes later the fire had been put out and the camp was quiet. Gwaine took first watch and stood silently a few trees away.

Yet, despite his exhaustion and the knowledge that Gwaine was only scant yards away watching the night, Merlin suddenly founds sleep alluding him. The words of Gwaine's tale kept spinning through his mind, the light-hearted words of the knight turned even more sinister in the darkness. Merlin swallowed.

Suddenly, he was not nearly as eager to visit the ocean as he had been.

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**A/N: **Poor Merlin. So, is the idea of mermaids just a story? Or is it something more? I guess you'll just have to stay tuned to find out!


	3. The Seahorse Inn

**A/N:** And here we are at Monday once more, so time for a new chapter! I want to thank everyone who has been commenting/favorite-ing/following. It's very encouraging, and some of the things you guys said were so amazingly nice, I can't even believe it! You know how to make an author smile. :)

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**Chapter 2- The Seahorse Inn**

Matthew's weathered hand, curled into a fist, slammed against the table.

"We are hosting the _king_ and his men!" the old man growled at the other old, wrinkled and weather-aged faces around him. "And you are telling me that this whole thing is _nothing?_ Men have _disappeared_! Died!"

"Men always die," the old, grating voice was that of Isaiah. He was the head of the Council, and seemed as old as time itself. Though all the men of the council were well past their youth, having had it stolen from then by the ocean, Isaiah was older than them all. He was almost revered as a king in this community, and he spoke with a deep wisdom that annoyed Matthew now. "The ocean demands her payment. Men die amongst the waves. It happens."

"But not on this scale!" Matthew argued. "Five good men, five _strong_ men, have disappeared in only the past week! One almost every day! Nothing of this scale has ever happened before!"

"I agree with Isaiah," another man, this one named Olfer, said. "We lose men all the time. It's simply the whim of nature that they happened to have disappeared all within this week."

There was a stir of agreement amongst the council. Matthew looked around, knowing he was losing this argument. He was never great in debates to begin with. Matthew was a quiet man who tended to have a temper when provoked. His version of a debate was yelling and hitting things until his opponent simply gave it to save their ears or to keep from being beaten to death. In a situation like this, when it was him against the rest of the councilmen, in a situation that did not allow for barstools to become weapons, the old fisherman was out of his depth.

The council of Halen was made up of the oldest of the villagers. Most of these men had spent a large portion of their lives on the water, battling the ocean waves and the black depths to pull out the treasures hidden below the surface. Fish. Crabs. Clams and mussels. Maybe an oyster with a pearl or two when one was incredibly lucky. All these old men had seen action. All had seen death, and violence caused by the wicked whim of the slate grey sea.

And Matthew was no exception to this. He'd spent just as many days as the rest of these men on the ocean, battling for their lives and a few wares that kept the village afloat. But there was something that these men were not understanding, not seeing. Something they _must_ see.

"The sea does not care who lives and who dies," Isaiah spoke, his voice like the creaking of a ship in a storm. "The sea takes who she wants, when she wants. If she wanted to take five men in five days, then so be it."

The council agreed once more with their ancient leader. Outside, the darkness had already overtaken the sky, and the fog was setting in again. A storm was rising, and Matthew could hear the angered thrashing of the wind against the windows of the long council room in which they sat, a building that had been built from extra bits of driftwood and remains from the rest of the village simply for the purpose of allowing their leaders someplace to meet where they would be sheltered from the elements. The long building was not the best quality, and bits of wood were always being cannibalized from other projects or old boats in order to patch bits of the council hall that needed repair. But at least tonight it stood against the eerie fog and the storm. And it was close to the inn, so if the council meeting was too rough on Matthew, at least he would have a place to drown his sorrows.

"I know that this is more than the typical death by the sea," Matthew tried once more to bring the views of the old sailors around. "All the men were young and strong. With wives, and reasons to live. It _must_ have been more than the ocean waves."

"Youth, strength, and spouse mean nothing to the ocean," Isaiah responded placidly. The men around him agreed fervently. "There is nothing going on here but what always happens. The disappearance of these men was a tragedy. But nothing more than what it usually is."

"You know what I believe, Matthew Erikson?" Olfer demanded, turning hard grey eyes on the dissenting member of the council. "I believe you have been tainted by the fact that your daughter lost her husband. You are trying to pass the fact that he drunk himself to death off onto some unnatural occurrence! We all know your daughter married wrong."

"Thom was a good man!" Matthew argued bitterly, his voice rising and his hand once more slamming against the weather-worn wooden table around which sat the councilors. "My daughter married well!"

"Thom was a drunkard!" another councilor spat.

"As were we all, at some point in our lives," Matthew yelled back.

"Thom drank himself to death and the ocean rebuked him for his sins. Your Maria should be thankful."

"You are all so blind; you won't see what's right in front of you!" Matthew shouted, feeling his face grow hot with anger, and hearing his blood pounding in his temples. He rose to his feet and slammed his hands, palm-down, on the table. "You are all old men, from whom the sea has taken your minds and your hearts! If you weren't so stupid, you'd see what is before you! This village is under attack, and if we don't take action _now,_ there will be none of us left to take action!"

"Sit down, Brother Matthew," Isaiah said calmly. So calmly, it made Matthew even angrier than before. "There is no need for yelling."

"There is plenty of need for yelling!" Matthew roared, his anger seething inside of him. "My daughter is a widow now, because of whatever is out there, and you simply do not care! You just wait, you old men, until it comes for you! Then you will wish you heeded my warning!"

With those last words, Matthew stumbled away from the table, knocking his chair over in the process and lurched towards the door, which he threw open. He practically fell out into the cold, clammy fog beyond, his haggard face lit up by a bolt of lightning that streaked across the sky. Rain lashed at his clothes, but the man did not care. He stumbled into the street, the anger frothing inside of him.

Ancient old men! Why were they so blind? Something was here, in Halen, and it was evil. But they refused to see, refused to do anything about it! One day, they would regret it, when it came for all of them. But then it would be too late.

* * *

Merlin was not happy.

They had been riding through rain for at least two hours now. Everyone in the party was now completely soaked, and Merlin was feeling rather miserable. He hadn't gotten much sleep the previous night; when he did sleep his dreams were riddled with nightmares of monsters and bloodthirsty mermaids. He had awoken on edge and tense, so much so that even Arthur had noticed and mentioned it. Merlin had put it off and, when Arthur realized that there was something definitely bothering his typically happy-go-lucky manservant that he simply did not want to talk about, the king had eventually dropped it.

Now, of course, it was dark. And there was a storm. And not just a small, drizzly storm, but a great whopping _gale_ that roared thunder and shot lightening across the sky and poured rain onto Arthur's exhausted party.

Fortunately, even through this fog that had seemed to come up from nowhere, came the lights of what seemed to be a village.

"That's it!" Arthur called over his shoulder. "That's Halen! We're almost there!"

Merlin gritted his teeth and urged his equally miserable mount onward. Hopefully, sometime in the near future there would be a hot bath and a bed for all of them.

A few minutes later, the party found themselves riding through the dirt streets of a tiny town. Of course, Merlin couldn't make much of it out through the rain and the fog, but honestly, at the moment, he didn't much care. All he wanted was to get out of the rain and into some dry clothes.

"You there!" Arthur called to a man on the street, who started and spun when he heard someone calling out to him. Merlin pushed dripping black hair out of his eyes and looked down at the man who stood before them. He was older, Merlin noticed, and his face was weathered, and a scruffy grey beard clung to his jawline, matching the flat, grey hair on his head. He had a bald patch on the back of his skull that gave him the appearance of wearing a crown of hair. His dark eyes were shining in a way that told Merlin this man must have just been in a fight. A fight which he had lost.

"I am King Arthur of Camelot, and my men and I are looking for a place to stay while we settle a trade dispute with the men of this village."

Merlin watched with slight amusement despite his soggy state as the man's eyes widened. He quickly bowed deeply in respect.

"My lord," he stuttered. "The council has been expecting you. Please, allow me to take you to them at once. "

Merlin glanced to see Arthur looked slightly annoyed. The King was just as soaked and tired as the rest of his men, and Merlin knew that the last thing he wanted to do right now was speak to a handful of old men who may or may not be pleased to see him.

"Please," Arthur replied. "All we want is to get out of the rain. We are exhausted, and would prefer if we were allowed to speak to your councilors tomorrow."

"Of course, of course," the man said, obviously slightly wrong-footed. "The Inn is right up the street. I'll lead you to it. They will have rooms for you and a place to board your mounts."

"Thank you," Arthur said. The man led them down the muddy road, and the small party of Camelot riders followed. Fortunately, it wasn't too far, and Merlin breathed a sigh of relief when an old, weathered building came into view in front of them. It was obviously the town inn, looking much like the Rising Sun, which was the main tavern in Camelot. A sign swung back and forth in the wind. A painted seahorse was surrounded by the words "The Seahorse Inn". As long as it provided beds and maybe a drink or two, Merlin didn't care what it was called.

The men dismounted, and tied their horses to a nearby hitching post before pushing through the doors of the seaside inn.

The tavern within was a busy place as Merlin would have expected it to be on a night like tonight. A fire blazed in the hearth, warming the room which held several mismatched tables and a bar. Many old, weathered men sat around the tables or at the bar, nursing flagons of wine or tankards of ale. They quieted and looked up as Arthur's company came in.

"I know where I'll be tonight," Gwaine said as they crossed through the crowd, still lead by the man from the streets. Merlin rolled his eyes.

"Urie, King Arthur and his men would like a place to sleep!" the man yelled embarrassingly loudly at the woman across the bar.

"So much for tact," Merlin muttered.

A rather heavy-set woman stepped forward from where she'd been polishing glasses and looked at the company of rather wet guests that stood before her. A motherly smile broke out across her face, even as Merlin felt the eyes of the entire tavern on them. He hoped that these men were supporters of Arthur's reign. If not, they might have a problem.

"King Arthur!" the woman, Urie, gushed as she stepped forward. "I never thought I'd live to see the day, when royalty stayed in _my_ tavern. But look at you dears! You're all soaked! Oh, you'll catch your deaths, you poor things. I have rooms for you. You'll have to share though. Two in each. You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not," Arthur replied with a rather soggy smile. Merlin rubbed his upper arms with his hands in order to try and get at least a little warmth back into them.

Urie was just turning to put the glass she had in her hand back on the shelf when the man who had lead them to the tavern caught the woman by her sleeve.

"Where's Maria?" he asked in a low voice, but Merlin still caught it. The woman tutted.

"She's in the back, poor dear," she said. "I gave her the night off. Can't have her wearing herself out, what with all that's happened."

"Sshh," the man hushed her. "I'll talk to you later."

The man turned to Arthur and his company and bowed again.

"I hope you are comfortable tonight, Your Highness," he said with a bow. Arthur nodded to him.

"Thank you. What was your name?"

"Matthew, Sire," the man, Matthew, responded. "Matthew Erikson."

"Thank you Matthew," Arthur said. "Merlin go and unpack the horses – "

"I'll do that, my lord," Matthew said quickly. "And I'll have the stable hand untack them."

Arthur nodded, but before he spoke Urie came bustling out from behind the bar.

"Now enough talk," she said. "Matthew, if you're going to do that, hurry up and do it. My lord, you follow me. I'll have hot baths and food made up for all of you. Can't have the King of Camelot and his knights catching their deaths, now can we?"

Without another word, the woman trotted away towards a flight of stairs that lead up into the second floor of the tavern, where the rooms for them would most likely be. The men followed, Merlin bringing up the rear.

They paired off- Leon and Gwaine, the two guards, and of course Merlin with Arthur. Merlin was just walking into the room he'd be sharing with Arthur when a young girl, probably only a year or two older than Merlin, appeared at the top of the stairs and sidled over to where Urie was overseeing the transfer of the items Matthew had brought in off the horses into the rooms. Merlin watched the girl from the corner of his eye. Her dark hair was slightly unkempt, and her face was pale. Her eyes were red-rimmed as if she'd been crying.

"Urie," she whispered softly. The motherly woman turned to the new arrival, and her gaze turned soft.

"Maria, sweetheart, I told you to take the night off," the ample lady told the young, slim girl. Maria looked shyly up into the inn keeper's round face.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I wanted to see if you needed any help."

Urie placed a motherly hand on the girl's arm and squeezed gently.

"No," she said. "Go downstairs. I think your father wants to talk to you, once he finishes with the king's horses."

Maria nodded and swept back down the stairs.

"What's wrong with her?" Arthur asked, his blue eyes watching the girl's disappearing form. Merlin hadn't realized he'd been watching, as well.

Urie sighed.

"Poor thing lost her husband a few nights ago. Wandered into the night and disappeared. Poor thing's been rattled ever since."

"Disappeared? How?" Arthur asked. Urie shrugged.

"Just walked into the fog, he did," she replied. "Never came back. Odd as oranges, it is."

She looked sadly down after the girl, and for just a brief moment, there seemed to be a level of fear that crossed over the woman's face. But before Merlin could truly register it, she had snapped back to her previously happy self and smiled brightly at the King and his servant. The others had already disappeared into their rooms.

"Now you just settle right down in there, and yell if you need anything. I'll be right up in the shake of a bunny's tail with hot water for your baths."

With one last smile, she was gone.

* * *

An hour later, Merlin was lying across the bed provided for him, feeling much warmer after a hot bath, a hot meal, and a change of clothes. And yet, there was still some slight fear in the back of him mind, remnants of the story that Gwaine had told him, and the nightmares that had plagued his dreams the night before. He was rather annoyed at himself. Why was he so scared about this? Gwaine's story was just that: a story. Wasn't it?

"What?" he asked, realizing Arthur had said something. The blond King had rolled onto his side and stared at his manservant.

"I asked why you're staring at the ceiling like that," he repeated. "Something interesting up there, Merlin?"

"What? No," the black-haired boy replied. "I'm just…tired."

"You've been jumpy all day," Arthur replied. "You want to tell me why?"

"I haven't been jumpy," Merlin said, maybe a little too quickly. Arthur raised his eyebrow.

"Gwaine telling you ghost stories by the fire again?" he teased. "Honestly, Merlin. He just makes them up to scare you."

"Maybe…." Merlin replied, his voice slightly uncertain. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Blow out the candle, would you?" he grunted as he rolled over onto his opposite side. Merlin glared at the king's back, but did as he was told, blowing out the candle that sat on the table between the two beds. It went out, leaving the warlock in the dark. Merlin rolled onto his side and stared at the window.

Outside, the rain lashed the glass, and the fog thickened.

* * *

**A/N:** Soaked Merlin and knights. You're welcome.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading! Check back next week for the next chapter!


	4. A Tour

**A/N:** Well, here it is Monday again, time for a new chapter! I want to give a special shout-out to the two Guest commenters, Nance and ddd, who have taken time to post such wonderful comments on this story. Since I can't reply to you directly, I'll just say it here: Thank you very much. Your input has been really encouraging!

For those who posted comments and haven't heard replies from me, I apologize. I recently found a really good book that I've been deeply buried in, and haven't been online much. Bad excuse, I know, but it really _is_ a very good book. Anyways, enjoy!

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**Chapter 3- A Tour**

The mist hadn't lifted much by the time the sun rose the next morning. On reflection by Merlin, it was almost eerie. Fortunately, he had gotten a considerably better night's sleep than what he'd gotten in the woods and was feeling considerably less jumpy. Gwaine's story was beginning to fade into the back of his mind as just that: a story. Once the morning light came out, chasing away the previous night's storm clouds (save the fog that still sat stubbornly over the seaside village) the clouds of fear from Merlin's mind seemed to have been chased away too, and after a good breakfast from Urie, even the idea of a day of nothing but political relations and talks with the councilors of Halen didn't dampen his spirits that badly.

Arthur had denied Merlin's pleas to stay behind whilst Arthur, accompanied by Leon and Gwaine, spoke to the council. Merlin figure it was simply for the fact that Arthur was being his typical early-morning surly self. Merlin would ask again later in the afternoon, when he was sure to get a better reply.

Although Arthur had been prepared to meet with the leaders of the village immediately, it had soon been relayed to him that the councilors would not be set to convene until later this afternoon. This made Arthur slightly annoyed, as Merlin could tell. But it seemed that the leaders of this town worked by their own schedule, one that did not even change for the King of Camelot. Merlin didn't find this too surprising: this far from the center of the kingdom, these people were more used to working _without_ a king than with one. They were less likely to rearrange their schedules for the appearance of a monarch that rarely affected them.

However, Matthew, the man who had led them to the inn the night before, suggested he take the king and his knights (plus Merlin, of course) on a tour of the village. It wouldn't take long, they all knew, but it was better than just sitting in the inn, quietly betting each other how much Gwaine could drink before he told _another_ insanely inappropriate joke (it didn't take that many) and being generally useless.

And, just as expected, there wasn't that much to see.

Halen was slightly larger than Ealdor, where Merlin had been born and raised. And, despite the smell of fish and salt that hung in the clammy air, Merlin didn't find it much different than Ealdor, either. Nowhere near as big as Camelot, the town of Halen consisted of stone or weathered wood buildings practically built into a cliff. The steep, dirt or stone streets led down to the docks, where the fishing vessels owned by the men of the community were tied when not in use. However, on a day like today, most of the vessels were out on the water. The fishermen left early in the morning, explained Matthew, so as to gather as much fish as possible before the sun set and the danger of storms rose.

The view from the top of the cliff was spectacular. Matthew led them up there, and though the path was slick from the fog and the previous night's rain, Merlin was glad for the dangerous hike. He'd never seen anything like this before, and knew he probably never would again.

The view from the top of the cliff was outstanding. The fog had parted slightly by the time the small party reached the lookout point, allowing a clear view of the slate grey ocean that spread out in every direction before them. It was eerily calm today, a silver mirror broken only briefly every so often by the ripple of waves, or a fish jumping. Merlin could just make out the tiny dots of fishing boats off shore, almost too far away to see. The cliffs surrounding the sea were equally impressive, but came with a sharp warning from Matthew.

"These cliffs," the man explained. "Are the death of many fishermen, even the wisest. The sharp rocks at their base can crush a boat in moments, if a hardy wind springs up, or a man isn't cautious about the current. I've seen many a life lost, crushed against these rocks."

"Is that what happened to Maria's husband?" Arthur asked. Matthew's head jerked up in response to the question.

"Where did you hear about that?" he demanded. Arthur's blue eyes gazed steadily at the old fisherman.

"Urie told us, last night. She said he disappeared."

Matthew sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Thomas was my son-in-law," the man replied. "Maria is my daughter. What Urie said is true. Thom disappeared, in the night. Never came back."

"What do you think happened?" Merlin suddenly asked. Arthur glanced at him, but didn't stop his servant from speaking. Matthew shrugged and looked out at the water.

"I'm not sure," he said. "But…." The old man trailed off, as if considering his words. Finally he took a breath.

"He was taken by the sea," he said, but he said it in a way as if he'd been taught to say it, like a parrot. "The whim of the sea."

Arthur opened his mouth to say something, but the man's head snapped up.

"Let me show you the docks," he said, his demeanor completely changing. Merlin narrowed his eyes. He'd seen a similar reaction from Urie last night. As if there was something below this calm veneer, something that no one wanted to discuss, hiding just below the surface. Merlin could feel it, in the back of his mind, a slight warning from his magic, but something he couldn't put off. There was something going on here, but he wasn't entirely sure what. Just his imagination?

A brief movement caught his eye. Merlin glanced down at the rocks below the cliff, which the water, churned into a foam, lapped against. Had he been mistaken, or had he, for just a moment, seeing something dive between those rocks? He squinted and stared at them, trying to see it again, but there was nothing. Just the licking of the sea foam against the dark rocks, turned almost black by the perpetual moisture.

"So, Merlin, you just going to stand here all day then?"

Gwaine's teasing voice broke the black-haired warlock from his trance, and his cerulean eyes snapped up to where everyone else was a few paces away, waiting for him. Merlin glanced down at his boots in embarrassment and ran to catch up with the rest of the party, avoiding meeting Arthur's eyes. He really didn't want to hear what the blonde had to say about his sudden moment of….well, untethered-ness.

"Next time we'll just leave you up here," Arthur told him.

"Yes, Sire," the servant muttered, still obviously distracted. He didn't catch the odd glance Arthur gave him. Instead, he glanced back over his shoulder at the retreating cliff outcropping where he'd seen whatever he had seen. Of course, it could have just been nothing. These waters were probably populated by many creatures. It could have been simply a fish he had seen.

Then why was his magic jangling in his mind the way it was?

Merlin shrugged, trying to force off the feeling as Matthew led them down to the docks.

"Watch your step, Your Highness," the fisherman warned Arthur. "The docks can get slippery after a rain."

Arthur gave his thanks for the warning and the knights, Arthur, and Merlin proceeded on to the wooden planks that stretched out into the water beyond. A few boats were tied there, mostly the ones that might have needed some repair. A few looked like the storm the night before had done them some damage.

A young woman and a man stood off to one side of the dock, standing close and talking softly to each other. Matthew nodded as he passed and stopped a few feet away from them.

"Our boats aren't much to look at," he apologized. "Especially the ones tied here. But these are what we use to bring in the fish that we trade. The fish is our main source of income, and, I have to say, one of the key issues in our disagreement with Bayard's kingdom."

Merlin scrutinized a boat tied nearby. He frowned.

"They don't look very seaworthy," he noted. Arthur smirked.

"Well, Merlin, we'll put you in one and you can test it out."

"Haha," Merlin muttered dryly.

"I've been in one," Gwaine said. "That was an interesting night. We caught _three_ narwhals that night! Three! And I swear, the feathers were _not_ my idea…"

"Yes, well," Leon said, stopping Gwaine's story short. Merlin studied the long haired knight with something in between bemusement and amusement. As usual, he could not tell whether or not the knight was making it up or not. Although, with Gwaine, one may never know.

"Maybe the council will be ready to convene now?" the other, older and more serious knight said.

"They might be. I'll take you to them," Matthew agreed. Merlin and Arthur shared a glance that confirmed they were both thinking the same thing: _saved from another one of Gwaine's stories_.

* * *

**A/N:** Shorter chapter this time. More of a bridge with some relevant details. Hope to see you again next week!


	5. Five Boats

**A/N:** Happy Monday, all! Honestly, Mondays are a lot nicer when you're on Summer Vacation. Anyways, for all you who aren't enjoying your Monday, I hope at least this updated chapter will help you through a bit. ;)

Once again, thanks for all the comments and favorites! They're very much appreciated!

* * *

**Chapter 4- Five Boats**

The council "chamber" turned out to be not much more than a long hall built from old discarded wood, weathered and aged by storms and salt. It was not anything to write home about, but Merlin supposed it gave the council members a semi-official place to meet and kept them from having to crowd into someone's home or attempt a serious meeting in the tavern. It was better than nothing.

The councilors, however, were a different matter. They had, indeed, gathered in the hall by the time Arthur and his men arrived, and as Merlin gazed around at the faces of men that were almost as weathered as the wood of the building, the young warlock was almost afraid that they were all going to keel over and die any second. Matthew seemed the youngest of all of them, and the man who had become an honorary guide for the Camelot visitors took his place in an empty chair at one end of a long table. Merlin noticed a slight hint of hesitation as the man seated himself, and a brief glare passed between him and a man on the other side of the table. Merlin recalled the look in Matthew's eyes when they had first met him in the midst of the storm the night before. The servant wondered if one of the council meetings had recently gotten rather heated. Although he had trouble imagining men who looked like these to become too argumentative.

At the head of the table sat a man who seemed almost a hundred times older than the other men around him. His wrinkles had wrinkles, and his head was almost devoid of hair save for a thin strip of white that ringed the sides of his skull. His eyes were blue and cloudy, and Merlin doubted the man could see well anymore. He seemed ancient. And compared with the other councilors, that was saying something.

The old man slowly rose and regarded Arthur and the others who stood before him with ancient wisdom.

"Arthur Pendragon," he wheezed with a voice that was like wind through dry leaves. "It is a pleasure to have our King amongst us. I am Isaiah, and on behalf of the Council of Elders of Halen, I welcome you."

"It is a pleasure," Arthur said, nodding to the members seated at the table. He stepped forward to stand at the other head, directly across from the ancient leader.

"I am certain you know why I am here," Arthur continued. "I had a scouting mission return to me to say that there is a trade disagreement between you and King Bayard's kingdom."

"It is true," Isaiah said. "But first, please get some chairs for our guests."

The old man's comment was directed at the younger members of the council, who quickly rose to do what they were told to. In moments, Arthur, Gwaine and Leon were seated. The guards chose to stand behind Arthur, and Merlin politely denied a chair as well.

"What seems to be the problem?" Arthur questioned, once they were all seated and comfortable.

"Bayard's men were asking too much fish for too little money," Isaiah grated. "And he was demanding us to allow his merchant ships to be anchored in our ports while they were being loaded with wares."

"We have had a treaty with Bayard for many years," Arthur said. Merlin glanced towards the door and slowly edged towards it, careful not to allow himself to be seen by the blond. "It's never been a problem for any other seaside town. Bayard's ships are more than welcome to dock while they are being loaded with goods."

"But they have never been docked here before," Isaiah told the King. "And now he is demanding us to let him do so. Our ports are not large enough."

Merlin was hardly listening to the back-and-forth between Arthur and Isaiah now. He glanced over at Arthur, who was again attempting to make the ancient councilor see reason about the treaty they'd made with Bayard over trading, but Merlin barely heard the old man's rebuttal. With the guards, Arthur, and the two knights turned away, he had a clear shot for the door.

"Have you tried communicating with Bayard's men about the issue?" was the last thing the young warlock heard before, after gently easing the heavy wooden door open, he slipped out into the air once again.

The smell of salt and fish was almost a relief after the heavy atmosphere inside the council chambers. Merlin knew that Arthur had insisted he stick around for the diplomatic talks, but honestly Merlin would deal with the consequences later. The last thing he wanted to do was sit around and listen to a bunch of men argue about why or why not it was a good idea to trade fish with Bayard.

The fog was almost completely gone by this point, burned off by the sun that was high in the sky. The town that had been covered in moisture after the previous rain and fog was now beginning to dry out, and the fishy smell enhanced by the damp was starting to fade. The smell of the sea was much more appealing without the smell of dead sea animals, and Merlin found himself taking in great lungfuls of air as he made his way back through the steep streets of Halen. He nodded to people as he passed, observing with interest their way of life: the women, hurrying around with their washing or articles they'd picked up at the stores, children playing in the streets, old men making their way slowly to and from the tavern. Merlin knew there'd be a lack of young men around as anyone who was strong enough would be out fishing.

He made his way back down to the docks, where they had been earlier. He rather hoped that maybe he'd be able to better see the rocks he'd seen from the cliff and understand just what he'd spotted diving down amongst the boulders. Despite the bright sunlight and the smiling faces of the villagers, Merlin's magic was still an annoying jangle in the back of his mind, like it was warning him of something. But every time he tried to concentrate on it, the feeling would slip away, just out of reach. Merlin gritted his teeth. It was irritating.

He remembered his way down to the shore easily enough, but when he finally reached the place where the boats left behind were moored, he found that he was not alone. Someone was standing on the edge of the dock, looking out at the sea. As Merlin neared, he recognized the figure: it was the girl, Maria, from the inn.

"Hello?" he asked as he approached. The girl jumped, startled, and spun to face him. She quickly wiped at her face with her hand and Merlin could tell she'd been crying.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he said quickly. She looked down at her feet, but Merlin couldn't tell if it was in embarrassment or the fact that she simply did not someone to see that she had been crying.

"No," she said. "I'm sorry, Master Merlin, I didn't mean to – "

"Don't call me 'Master'," Merlin interrupted. "I'm Arthur's servant."

"It must be wonderful to work for the king," she said dreamily. Merlin smirked.

"Not exactly the word I would have used…" he muttered. She gave him an odd look, but he looked back at her, his cerulean eyes suddenly concerned.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Once more she looked down. "We were told about your husband."

"Thom," she told him with a nod. "Thomas was his name."

"Urie told us he vanished."

Maria turned from him and looked back out at the ocean.

"It was almost a week ago now," she said, her voice clipped. "I come out here to….watch for him."

She laughed bitterly.

"I guess I hold onto some strange belief that he'll come back."

Merlin placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he told her, honestly. He knew how hard it was to lose someone you loved. He briefly thought of Freya, and then of his own father, both of whom had died in his arms.

"I just…I don't understand it," she said, turning back to face him. "I don't understand how it happened."

"What do you mean?" Merlin asked. She shook her head.

"Please," she begged, her dark eyes suddenly turning from sad to frightened. "You're from Camelot. Maybe you can help us. Can you help us?"

"Help you with what?" Merlin asked, suddenly confused. Why did she seem scared? Come to think of it, practically everyone he'd met who had talked to them at all about the disappearance of Maria's husband had had a strange level of fear behind their eyes. But it was like Matthew said, wasn't it? The sea takes people sometimes.

Then why were these people so scared?

"Come with me," she said, gesturing Merlin to follow her. Merlin did as she asked, hurrying across the still-slick boards of the dock and to the place where the sand met the water. There, on the shore, was spread a large, oiled tarpaulin, draped over something that it was either concealing or protecting – or perhaps both.

"This is where they found my husband's boat," Maria informed him, taking a hold of one edge of the tarpaulin. "The morning after he disappeared. This is what they found."

With strength that belied her slim form, she tugged the tarpaulin, pulling it away to reveal what lay beneath.

Merlin's eyes narrowed. A boat lay, in the sand. But it was far, far different from the ones that Merlin had seen tied at the dock. For one, the main mast was broken, and it now trailed its sail in the sand. The side of the boat was smashed in. Merlin carefully stepped closer to it, and knelt down to inspect the damage. Though a normal observer would have simply concluded that the boat had been smashed in by the rocks near the cliff, like Matthew had said, upon closer inspection Merlin picked out something that was very, very wrong.

Long jagged claw marks were etched into the wood of the small craft, running this way and that along the length of the vessel. Merlin placed a hand on the marks and shuddered at what he realized. The marks were wide enough apart for a human hand.

"The councilors keeping saying that he was drunk when he went out, and that his boat was crushed against the rocks," Maria stepped gingerly over the broken splinters of wood scattered across the sand as she came to kneel beside Merlin. "But I _knew_ Thom. Even when he was drunk, he knew the dangers of going out on the sea alone. He wouldn't have done this."

"_Was_ he drunk?" Merlin asked the young woman. He didn't want to make her think he didn't believe her, but he also knew the powers of too much alcohol on the mind. Even the most cautious of men could practically change character under its influence.

Maria nodded softly.

"Yes," she answered quietly. "But…I've never seen him like that before. He was…_angry_. But he's never angry. I've known Thom practically all my life."

Merlin nodded in understanding. Growing up in a small town, you knew everyone. Especially if Thomas and Maria had been near the same ages. They'd probably grown up together.

"He's never been that way," she continued. "He…_hit_ me. And he'd _never_ do that. It was almost like…something possessed him."

Merlin almost shuddered at her words. She suddenly grabbed his arm and looked intently into his cerulean eyes.

"You're from Camelot," she said, her voice once more taking on a pleading edge. "Please, is there anything you know? Anything that could have caused this? It's not _natural_, is it?"

Merlin looked back at the boat and rubbed the back of his neck.

"It's only one boat," he said. "And all I have is your word."

"Well," she said, standing. "If you need more….follow me."

She stepped away from the destroyed vessel and turned to gesture for him to come along. Merlin hesitated for a moment, then straightened and brushed the sand off the knees of his pants. He picked his way carefully over the mangled boards that lay strewn across the beach until he was away from the worst of the wreckage. Maria set off across the beach, with Merlin close behind.

Suddenly, she stopped.

"Over there," she said, raising a slim hand to point. Merlin stepped around her, careful of the jagged rocks that lay haphazardly around. He followed her finger and his eyes widened.

Two more tarpaulins lay across the sand, in vain attempt to hide the mysteries that had washed up on the beach.

Merlin made his way across the sand (which was surprisingly hard to walk through) and grabbed the corner of one of the oiled skins. With a heave, he threw the material aside to reveal yet another mangled boat, this one even worse than the first. It was bashed in completely, loose planks surrounding it on all sides. Even in its demolished state, Merlin could still clearly make out the jagged lines etched into the weathered wood: claw marks by human hands.

_Or human-like…._ He thought darkly.

Maria pulled the tarpaulin off the second wreck, and Merlin was not surprised to see this boat in the same way: once more, etched by the marks of human hands.

"There are two more like these moored at the docks," she said. "Not completely destroyed, but their fishermen went in the same way as Thom: disappeared, never came back."

Merlin replaced the tarpaulin on the wreck he'd been inspecting and stepped back.

"Do you know what happened to them?" Maria asked softly, hopefully. Merlin stared at the replaced black skin and sighed.

"No," he said, lost for words. "I've never seen anything like it."

"But it _isn't _natural, don't you agree?" she said, coming over to him. "I _can't_ be. It wasn't just them being knocked against the rocks. I _know_ it wasn't."

"How many men have gone missing?" he asked her.

"Five," she replied. "Including Thom. All in the last week."

"Five fishermen, disappeared," Merlin said quietly, thoughtfully. He looked at her.

"What do _you_ think happened?"

"I…I don't know," she replied, her eyes fearful and distant. "The fog takes them. They go out, never seen again. The next day their boat washes up on the shore, just like this."

She gestured to the mangled wrecks.

"I've…I've heard stories, but…they _can't_ be real."

Merlin fixed her with a look.

"What stories?" he asked. She looked back up at him, her dark eyes wide with fear.

"Mermaids."

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**A/N: **Hope you enjoyed that. More to come! Tune in next Monday.


	6. Don't Go Into the Fog

**A/N:** Yes, I know that I didn't update on Monday, and I'm very sorry. On Sunday afternoon my computer was infected with a very bad virus and I had to take it into Staples on Monday to get it repaired, and I literally just got it back half an hour before I added this new chapter. Fortunately, the virus was removed without a hitch and none of my files were harmed.

As for the story in general, I realize some of you think my updates are a little too slow, but there is a reason I only post once a week. I don't like posting a chapter as soon as I write it, because it doesn't give me time to make sure all my threads tie together and I have my continuity straight. I post only once a week so I can keep ahead of myself in writing and go back and make sure everything's alright before another chapter is posted. However, I do have some good news. Depending on how things go with writing and how far I am ahead by Friday, I may begin posting twice a week instead of just once. My ift to you. No promises, but that's how it might go.

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**Chapter 5- Don't Go Into the Fog**

"I cannot believe these men," Arthur complained as the small group of Camelot visitors sat around a table in the tavern on the ground floor of the inn, sharing a drink and a meal. Merlin was with them once again, and was not looking forward to what Arthur would have in store for him if the royal prat had realized that his servant had snuck away at some point in the meeting.

"They didn't even _think_ about meeting with Bayard's men to try and settle their differences. They simply decided to stop trade altogether."

Arthur shook his head in annoyance.

"Maybe they thought they wouldn't be able to make Bayard see it was that important," Merlin put in. "Maybe they thought they wouldn't be able to get in contact with his men."

"Maybe," Arthur consented. "Either way, Leon will be riding out tomorrow morning to ask for Bayard to send a delegate."

Leon nodded his agreement.

"Yes sire," he replied. Such an agreement showed the level of loyalty that Arthur's knights had towards him. Even at the last moment Leon was willing to ride for at least a two day journey to the neighboring kingdom in order to carry out the need of his king. It was an extraordinary show of just how faithful Arthur's knights were.

"Of course, _Mer_lin," Arthur said, turning his attention pointedly to his servant. "How would you know anything about what happened in the council today? Where, exactly, _Mer_lin, were you?"

"I don't know what you mean," Merlin said innocently, with what he hoped was a blank look at Arthur. The king and his knights laughed.

"You'll have to work on that lying face, mate," Gwaine said, clapping the skinny servant on the back.

"Well, to make up for the escapade you don't seem to remember, you can polish my armor tonight," Arthur told the black-haired boy. Merlin frowned.

"Why did you even bring your armor?" he asked. "We're not going into battle."

Arthur rolled his eyes.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand, _Mer_lin," he said in mock annoyance. Merlin smirked.

"I bet you don't know either," he replied. Arthur's eyes narrowed.

"If we were back in Camelot, I'd make you clean the stables," the young king answered. Merlin laughed.

Gwaine, who had finished taking a long swig of his ale, banged the tankard down on the table.

"Empty again. Anyone else need another?" he asked, glancing around the table.

"I think I can go with a second," Arthur agreed, and Leon, along with the two guards said they'd like another round as well. Merlin was the only one who turned down the offer of another drink. He knew his limit.

"It will be an honor to get Her Royal Highness another drink," Gwaine said with a mocking bow. The others at the table laughed as the long-haired knight swept up the empty tankards and turned- only to almost run into a man walking past.

"Sorry, mate," Gwaine said with an easy smile. But the fisherman was less willing to let it go.

"Why don't you watch where you're going?" he demanded, dark eyes flashing with anger. Gwaine raised his hands.

"Easy there," he said. "You wouldn't want to mess with a knight of Camelot."

"I don't care who I'm messing with," the man growled. "You need to get out of my way."

Gwaine's hand went immediately to his sword, and both Leon and Arthur stood quickly, knowing that Gwaine's temper was often just as quick as his tongue.

"Gwaine," Leon said warningly. Gwaine let his hand drop and stepped back. The fisherman's glare took in the knight plus the others around the table before he grunted and continued on his way. Merlin watched the man carefully as he strode to a table in the far corner of the tavern. A young, lovely looking woman sat there, waiting for him, and she smiled and spoke to him as she sat down. Merlin's eyes narrowed as he realized that he had seen this couple before. Earlier in the day, he'd seen them at the docks.

Merlin and Arthur shared a glance.

"Seems like some of the locals aren't as silent as their councilors," Gwaine muttered, then continued his way towards the bar to get refills for their tankards.

* * *

The fog rolled back in promptly at seven o'clock. The sun was almost gone from the horizon, and Merlin had practically watched the clouds float in from the sea. By the time the sky was completely dark, the fog had overtaken the tiny town, leaving the streets outside the window of his and Arthur's small room wreathed in a grey haze. Merlin shifted uncomfortably as he continued to polish Arthur's armor. Something about the mist put him on edge, made his magic tense. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was just something about the low-hanging, hazy clouds that made him feel like someone was watching him. He kept glancing at the window, afraid he might see a face peering through the glass in at him.

Merlin shuddered, trying to shake the feeling off.

"What's your problem?" Arthur asked bluntly from the other side of the room. Merlin jerked and looked up at him, almost dropping the helmet he'd been polishing. He hadn't realized he had come in.

"Nothing," he quickly said, recovering the armor he'd knocked over. "I was just…thinking."

"Don't hurt yourself," Arthur muttered, and Merlin shot him a glare over his polishing.

"It's just this fog," Merlin added after a moment's silence. "Don't you think it's odd?"

"What's odd about it?" Arthur asked casually, crossing over to his bed and picking up a small writing desk he'd brought along. He fiddled in his bag for a piece of parchment and ink, preparing himself most likely to write a letter to Bayard about why he should send a delegate to Halen.

"It's a village on the sea. They get fog all the time," he continued. Merlin shifted to look back out the window at the eerie mist.

"It just feels…weird," the black-haired servant answered. "Like something's wrong with it."

"One of your funny feelings again, Merlin?" Arthur asked. Merlin looked down at his polishing again.

"You don't feel it?" Merlin asked, glancing back out the window. "That sort of…strangeness?"

"I think," Arthur said, pointing his quill at his servant. "You need to spend less time worrying about feelings and more time worrying about polishing my armor."

"I think if you keep holding your quill like that, the ink's never going to come out of your pants," Merlin replied coolly. Arthur looked down to see what the black-haired boy was talking about, only to find that the ink-laden pen had been dripping onto his breeches. He cursed slightly and Merlin watched in amusement as he attempted to wipe the spilled ink off with his hand, which only succeeded in smearing it and then staining his palm.

"Merlin!" Arthur yelped. The servant hid his laugh, and then grabbed one of his extra neckerchiefs from his nearby saddlebag.

"Catch," he said and tossed the square of red cloth to Arthur. "That one's getting old anyways."

Arthur caught it and used the neckerchief, with a little help from a bowl of water left by Urie on the table, to clean the worst of the ink off his palm. His breeches leg, however, was another issue.

"Can't take you anywhere, can we, Sire?" Merlin asked, eyebrow raised. Arthur glared icily at the boy.

"Shut up, _Mer_lin," he snapped. "You'll be cleaning these later."

"I don't doubt it," Merlin replied, still smirking. Arthur opened his mouth to say something more, but there was a knock on the door. Arthur, pulling his shirt down in vain attempts to hide the black stain now sported by his brown trousers, made his way to the door and opened it. Maria was standing there, her dark hair pulled back and covered by a kerchief. Her eyes were still red-rimmed and tired.

"Urie sent me to see if there was anything you needed," she said softly. She looked from Merlin to Arthur, then lowered her eyes as if she didn't want to make eye contact with either. Merlin felt sorry for her.

"I'm afraid we'll be here for another few days," Arthur said. "There's something that's come up that will extend our stay for a short time."

Merlin knew he was speaking of the fact that Leon would have to ride out and find a delegate from Bayard. It would probably take the knight at least three days to make the journey.

"I hope that won't be a problem for you," Arthur continued. Maria shook her head.

"Of course not," she said. "It's an honor to be the host for our King."

Arthur nodded with a smile and looked pointedly at Merlin, who rolled his eyes and continued his polishing.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" she asked. Arthur considered for a moment.

"Is there a way to get up to the cliff at this time? I'm sure the view – "

"Don't go into the fog!"

Both Merlin and Arthur blinked and looked at the young woman. She pressed a hand to her mouth and looked down in embarrassment, then slowly looked back up.

"I'm sorry, sire," she said. "It's not safe outside at night."

Arthur frowned.

"Why not?" he asked.

She laughed slightly and shook her head, as if trying to shake off her moment of panic. Then she curtsied.

"I'm sorry, sire, I didn't mean to keep you from your business. Please excuse me."

She curtsied again, then turned and hurried away, closing the door behind her. Arthur turned and looked at Merlin, who had paused in his work to watch the girl's strange antics.

"What was that about?" the young king pondered. Merlin met his ice-blue gaze.

"Now do you think my 'feeling' has some merit?" he asked, eyebrows raised. Arthur glared at him.

"Shut up, _Mer_lin."

* * *

Arthur and Merlin had both settled in for the night when they were awoken by the sound of a racket coming from the tavern below them. Both sat up and glanced at each other before pulling on their boots and racing down the stairs to find out what the commotion was about.

"And you're sure he wasn't out there, with the boat? Or near it?" Matthew was there, in the tavern, speaking to a well-muscled young man with a shock of bright red hair. He was holding a young woman, with equally bright red hair close to him as she sobbed into his shoulder.

"I'm sure," the man replied in a thick accent. "He was nowhere t' b' seen. Never saw nothin' like it I have. Like it was ripped apart."

Matthew fell silent as Urie swept from behind the bar to comfort the young woman in the red haired man's arms.

Merlin glanced back over his shoulder to see that Leon and the guards had been alerted to the commotion as well. Gwaine hadn't left the tavern.

"What's happened?" Arthur asked, striding forward. Matthew turned sad dark eyes towards the young blond king.

"We've had another disappearance," he said solemnly.

* * *

**A/N: **Okay, guys! Hope you enjoyed that! And I wish all my fellow USA friends a happy 4th of July, and I wish all my Canadian friends a happy Canada Day (which was a few days ago now, I think). Have a safe and fun celebration!


	7. One More Boat

**A/N:** Surprise! I told you might post another chapter on Friday. I think I'm comfortable enough with where I am in writing this that I'll start posting twice a week instead of just once.

For those who wanted me to read their stories/ etc., give me a little time. I'll get around to them eventually, but I am busy with writing and perfecting this story at the moment. So have faith. ;)

* * *

**Chapter 6- One More Boat**

Despite the Camelot party's demands to be taken to the shore and inspect the place where the boat belonging to the missing man had been found, Matthew and the other men in the tavern had refused, claiming it was too dangerous in the fog to go out.

"Why were you out?" Arthur asked the red headed man who apparently had been the one to find the boat initially.

"I was walkin' to my sister's house," he nodded to the red-haired girl who was seated in one of the chairs at the table. Urie was seated beside her on one side, and Maria sat on the other.

"I live near th' docks," the man continued. "An' I was walkin' by when I heard what sounded like a scream. I went over t' see what it twas, but all I found was Erik's boat, all bashed it in twas. Didn't stick around t' see what had caused it."

At the sound of the name of the missing man, the young red-haired woman immediately began to sob harder.

"Erik was her husband?" Merlin asked, softly. The large red-headed man nodded.

"Th' best you ever saw," he agreed. "Great man. Tis a great loss."

"You said you heard a scream, and that's what drew you to the boat," Arthur said. "But you didn't see anyone around it? No one at all."

The man shook his head.

"I saw nothin'," he answered. "Strange, though."

"How so?" Arthur asked. The man blinked large, brown eyes.

"I thought…I _thought_ I heard….laughin', and not the _right_ kind, either."

Merlin's eyes narrowed.

"Not the _'right'_ kind?" he repeated. The man shook his head.

"It sounded…_evil_."

Arthur and Merlin shared a glance before Matthew stepped in.

"I think you'd better go home, Aaron," he said. "Before it gets too late."

The man nodded, but looked to where Urie was still sitting with his sister. The motherly woman looked up and smiled gently, sadly.

"I'll keep her here," she said. "She needs to be around those who understand."

Her eyes met Maria's sad ones, and the dark-haired girl immediately wrapped her arms tighter around the red head. The man, Aaron, nodded.

"Much obliged," he said. Matthew led him to the door, and the two men stepped out into the fog.

Arthur turned and looked at Merlin, who sighed.

"Number six," the black-haired servant whispered softly.

* * *

The morning dawned after a restless night for both Merlin and Arthur. Merlin had struggled to find sleep, and often in the night he had heard Arthur muttering to himself and shifting around in his own bed, obviously struggling with the same problem. The morning light, however gritty and filtered it was, hindered by the fog, couldn't have come soon enough for either.

Leon was already gone by the time servant and king were eating breakfast with Gwaine and the two guards in the tavern. Merlin was feeling less and less pleased about the fact that their stay in this town would be lengthened, even by a few days. It just didn't feel right.

Fortunately, after last night's incident, Arthur seemed to be picking up on the fact that something was wrong, as well. Hopefully, they'd be able to get to the bottom of it before things got desperately out of hand.

As soon as their morning meal was finished, Arthur approached Matthew, who seemed to have made himself the group's honorary guide and had spent much of his time the previous day in and around in inn in case Arthur or the party needed to be led anywhere.

"Take us to the boat that was found last night," Arthur said to the man. He looked hesitant initially, but when Gwaine and the two guards both backed up their king's request, Matthew realized he didn't entirely have a choice.

"Follow me," he finally, reluctantly, told them.

The fog was clammy and wet against their skin as they made their way down the streets and towards the docks. But instead of leading the group of men to the place where the boats were moored, he instead led them to the shore line, where Merlin had seen the other wrecks the day before. Those were now covered back up, apparently in attempt to hide them from prying eyes. Today, a new shattered boat had taken its place amongst what was quickly becoming a graveyard of fishing vessels.

"There it is," Matthew said, standing back from where the fishing vessel lay, splintered, like the others. However, even as the knights, plus Merlin and Arthur, carefully picked their way over the splintered wood to get a better view of the wreckage, Matthew would not go any farther, as if he was stopped by some invisible force field.

_Or some invisible fear,_ Merlin thought.

Arthur and Merlin knelt beside the wreck even as the others still climbed around it, as if looking for a survivor under the mess of broken boards.

Arthur rested a hand on the damp wood. The palm came away sticky with red liquid. The blond king frowned.

"Blood," he said. Merlin nodded in agreement. His own hand went to the wood, and he found just what he was searching for.

"Arthur," he said, gesturing for him to look. Arthur leaned forward, and Merlin raised his hand and traced the place where claw marks – like the ones from before – had been cut into the wood.

"What did this?" the blond wondered aloud. Merlin nodded towards the black tarpaulins scattered down the beach.

"I was down here with Maria yesterday," he said.

"So _that's_ where you were," Arthur said. Merlin shot him a glare.

"…And there are three more wrecks just like this," Merlin continued. "Two more are moored at the docks. But they're all the same: they all have these claw marks."

"They disappear at night, and then their boats turn up the next morning, no body," Arthur said slowly. Merlin nodded.

"I think it might be magic," the said softly. Arthur fixed with him with a look.

"Why do you think that?" he asked, though there wasn't any mocking in his voice. Merlin looked at the claw marks again.

"I was talking to Maria yesterday," he replied. "And she mentioned a story. The story about mermaids."

Arthur let out a long sigh.

"Merlin…" he started, but the black haired servant cut him off.

"Have you ever seen anything do this, Arthur?" he demanded, gesturing again to the claw marks on the wood. "Look at these marks: they're made by hands. Not by animals. Besides, what animal could make this? Even I know nothing in the ocean could do something like this."

Arthur stared at the wreck for a long time before standing once more. He turned to Matthew, his blue eyes suddenly darkening.

"Call your council together," he said in a voice that Merlin had seen make the strongest of men bend to Arthur's will. "I need to speak to them."

"Yes, Sire," Matthew said and quickly hurried away. Merlin stood as well and brushed the sand from the knees of his trousers. Arthur looked at him.

"I think it's time we started getting some answers," the blond said steadily.

* * *

Once again Merlin found himself in the council hall, before the councilors, but this time he wasn't looking for a way to escape. This time it was an entirely different situation.

"Your Highness," Isaiah said calmly. There were only a fraction of the typical council members here this morning, as apparently Matthew was only able to gather a small group of them. The rest had either simply refused to make an appearance or for some other reason couldn't be in attendance.

"I hadn't expected to hear from you so soon after yesterday," the elderly councilor continued.

"This isn't about the trade disagreement," Arthur answered, his voice and eyes hard.

"Then what is it about?" the head councilor asked amicably.

"It's about the fact that in the last week you've have six men disappear and six mutilated boats wash up ashore," Arthur returned. The councilor simply looked at him.

"And what is so urgent about that, Your Majesty?" the man's words were like a punch in the stomach for Merlin. Honestly, six men had disappeared, and this man thought nothing of it?

By the look on Arthur's face, he was thinking the same.

"Six of your men have disappeared into the night, and you don't find that in the least bit disturbing?" Arthur demanded, appalled.

"And why should I?" Isaiah replied calmly. If Arthur's eyes widened any more, they'd pop out of their sockets.

"'_Why should you…?'_"

"Your Majesty, with all due respect, you do not understand how the occupation of fishing works," Isaiah responded steadily. "Matthew showed you the rocks near the cliffs, yes? Many a boat has been bashed against their wicked surfaces, and the sea takes who she wants. There is nothing more."

"Six men, in less than a week, all have been crushed against rocks and you don't find that strange?"

"They understood the danger of the job when they took it," Isaiah responded. Merlin gritted his teeth. How could this man be so calm about all this?

Arthur pressed his hand against his face, most likely trying to keep himself from chewing the old man out. Still, Merlin could see a vein pulsing in his temple.

Finally, the young king lowered his hand.

"They went out at night, though," he argued. "And that was something Matthew told us when we were viewing the docks. The men return before nightfall, because it is too dangerous to fish afterwards. Surely it's not normal for a knowledgeable fisherman to go out at night?"

"They were drunk."

Isaiah's answer practically made Merlin fall over. Arthur's eyes narrowed in disbelief.

"They were drunk," he repeated slowly. Isaiah nodded wisely.

"It is, unfortunately, a common ailment among those of our occupation," the old man answered steadily. "But it is true nonetheless. The answer is obvious."

"So you're telling me that six men, all in a row, all got drunk, all went out onto their boats at night, and were all killed by the rocks?" Arthur demanded.

"It is sad, but it is true," Isaiah responded. Arthur's mouth fell open in astonishment.

"But, there were claw marks on the boats," Merlin put in, stepping forward. "Like a creature had clawed at the wood."

"A mere mark of the rocks," the ancient councilor responded. "They are quite jagged."

"You can't honestly believe what you're saying," Arthur argued. But Isaiah simply sat there and smiled peacefully.

"But I do," he replied.

"Please, Isaiah, maybe you should – " began Matthew, but the old head councilman fixed the younger one with a hard, unrelenting gaze.

"We have already discussed this, Matthew," he said, for once his voice sounding slightly riled. "Do not bring up old arguments. The answers to all your questions are explained by natural occurrences and nothing more. With all due respect, Your Highness, this is my village, and the sea is something we all know well. It is a tragic occurrence, but one that happens. Now, if you excuse me, I have issues around town that need attending to. Gentlemen. Your Majesty."

With one last bow, Isaiah stood and crossed to the door of the council hall, which he pulled open and walked out of. The rest of the council, who had sat silently supporting their leader, rose and parted through the door as well, leaving only Arthur, Merlin, Gwaine, the two guards, and Matthew in the hall.

"I can't believe what just happened," Merlin said. Arthur shook his head.

"Neither can I," he agreed. Matthew stood and crossed over to where Arthur stood, looking like someone had just slapped him across the face.

"I am truly sorry, Arthur," he said. "I attempted to open their eyes to the same situation. But no matter what I said, they simply will not see.

"My own son-in-law was one of the victims, disappeared into the fog and never returned. And yet when I brought it before the council, they said the same to me as they did to you."

"They're blind," Gwaine put in, stepped forward to stand beside Arthur. "Just a bunch of blind, ancient men. And they smell like fish."

Matthew nodded.

"They are too old to see much beyond their own ideas," he answered, sadly. "Anything new or different to them, they simply ignore or try and force into their own little boxes. They cannot understand."

"They need to understand," Arthur said. "This town may be in serious danger."

"I know," Matthew said solemnly. "I can see it. But I'm afraid that by the time _they_ do, it will be too late. For all of us."

The dark words hung in the air for a long time, before Matthew gestured towards the door.

"Allow me to escort you back to the inn," he said. "Maybe it would relieve your mind to ask Maria some questions. She is anxious to understand what happened to her husband, and will do whatever it takes to find out."

Arthur nodded in agreement, and followed Matthew out the door.

"Besides," Gwaine said. "After a meeting like that, I could use a drink."

Merlin raised an eyebrow.

"Isn't it a little early for it, Gwaine?" he asked. Gwaine fixed him with a shocked look.

"It's never too early for mead!" the long-haired knight proclaimed and both Merlin and Arthur laughed.

None of the party saw a brief form slink back into the shadows between two buildings, blending back into the hiding place where it had been crouched, overhearing the entire meeting of the council. In moments, wreathed by the fog, it was gone.

* * *

**A/N:** So Mondays and Friday will now be the new update days. I hope you're enjoying this and I hope you'll check back soon!


	8. Attack

**A/N:** Thanks again for all the great comments, guys! I'm really enjoying your feedback on this. :)

* * *

**Chapter 7- Attack**

With Leon on a mission to find a delegate from Mercier, the meetings with the councilors were cancelled until the knight returned. And after today's show-down with the ancient fisherman, no one was really disappointed.

After Matthew had suggested that they talk to Maria, they had returned to the tavern to do just that. But the young widow was nowhere to be found, and after questioning Urie, it had been discovered that the girl had gone out to run errands around the town and wouldn't know when she'd be back. They were welcome to wait for her, though. And after all they'd been through that morning, it didn't take too much to persuade the small company to take a seat and relax for a little while.

However, now they simply found themselves sitting around a table in the tavern being generally useless.

Arthur was fuming, Merlin could tell. And he didn't blame him one bit. After all, six men had gone missing, and yet the councilors simply refused to see that it might be something that posed a danger to the livelihood of the town. Merlin knew Camelot wasn't perfect (far from it), but he felt certain that if something similar had happened there, someone would have done _something_.

He was still convinced it was magic. Whether or not Arthur had come to that conclusion as well, he couldn't be sure. But, whatever it was, it was evil, and it was out for blood.

"It's not your fault, Arthur," Merlin said to the brooding king. Arthur sighed heavily and rubbed his face with his hand.

"I know," he said. "It's just so frustrating that these councilors simply refuse to see sense. What's the point of all the power I have as a king, when I can't even make one council of men see that their village is in danger?"

"Maybe we'll just have to stop it ourselves," Merlin suggested. Arthur shook his head.

"It's not that easy, I'm afraid," he answered tiredly. "We're walking on eggshells until we can get these trade disagreements worked out. These men are incredibly stubborn: if we make a wrong move, they may simply refuse to trade with Mercier – or the rest of Camelot, for that matter. And not even I will be able to make them change their minds."

"When you live without a king for so long," Gwaine said as he stretched. "It's hard to give your respect when one suddenly comes along and demands it."

"That was almost profound, Gwaine," Arthur said, impressed. "Congratulations."

"Don't expect it to happen again," the bearded knight replied, as he staggered to his feet and over to the bar for another round.

The others at the table laughed, the atmosphere lightening slightly after the dark discussion.

"Still," Merlin said, after a moment of silence passed between all of them. "There must be _something_ we can do."

"Merlin," Arthur said seriously, looking into his servant's eyes. "I hate sitting around here, biding our time too, but until Leon comes back with the delegate, and we smooth out these trade issues, that's exactly what we'll have to do."

Merlin sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He didn't like where this was going. Arthur wasn't going to risk the success of this mission, and though Merlin knew that as a king, that may be a good thing, it also meant that it was looking more and more likely that Merlin would be figuring out everything himself. And though he was perfectly capable, he didn't entirely look forward to the idea of fighting some unknown magical creature (or creatures) himself.

And, honestly, he had hoped to get a reprieve from saving Arthur from danger.

The door to the tavern swung open and the Camelot party, who seemed to be the only ones occupying the inn at the moment, all turned to see who had entered. A young woman, dressed in a long black dress made her way into the bar area. As she smoothed down her black hair, Merlin realized he knew her. She'd been with the man at the docks, and at the back of the tavern with the same man the day before, when he'd snapped at Gwaine. Merlin frowned, wondering why she was here.

Her eyes landed on the party, and a smile spread across her china doll-like face. She swept over to them, her dark eyes sparkling.

"Am I to understand that you're King Arthur?" she asked as she stopped in front of their small table. Merlin watched her carefully. He hadn't noticed before, but now that she was this close he could see just how strikingly beautiful she was. Her dress clung close to her slim, perfectly sculpted body, and the neckline swooped low over her chest. Her skin was light but not pale, and her face was a perfect oval, set off by her coal black hair.

"That I am," Arthur replied with a smile. She curtsied deeply.

"I'm sorry for the intrusion, my lord," she said. "Only it started to rain outside, and so I came in here to seek shelter. I saw you and just _had_ to ask."

Arthur shook his head.

"No intrusion at all," he replied. "It's a pleasure to meet you….?"

"Arabell," she supplied for him. Arthur smiled.

"Of course," he said. "It's a pleasure to meet you, _Arabell_."

Merlin's eyes narrowed slightly. He didn't entirely like the way she was looking at Arthur. Was it just him or did her eyes look almost…hungry?

"Arthur," Merlin put in. "Don't you think you have…business or something you need to attend to?"

Arthur blinked and looked over his shoulder at his servant, as if coming out of a trance.

"What?" he asked. Merlin raised an eyebrow.

"I said I think there's more important things to do than sit here drinking mead all day," Merlin replied. He had expected to hear Gwaine make a sarcastic comment, but when the servant glanced over he found that the knight was still at the bar, chatting lightly with Urie. Merlin rolled his eyes. Of course.

"I think…you may be right, Merlin," Arthur said slowly, as if he wasn't entirely sure of his words. Merlin looked back at the king, his eyes wide. Had Arthur really just agreed with him?

"I'm sorry, Sire, I didn't mean to keep you," the girl apologized. "I just wanted to welcome you to our village, and I hope you have a good stay."

"Thank you," Arthur said, rising from his chair. Merlin followed as well, and the two guards who had been sitting at a different table saw their king rising and stopped their drinking to do the same. "I hope it is, too. If you'll excuse us – "

Arthur started away, but the girl suddenly put a hand on his arm. He turned to look at her.

"If you're interested," she said. "I'm usually here at nights, around eight or so. In case you have any questions about the village."

"Of course," Arthur said with a smile. "I'll keep that in mind."

He pulled away from her and walked towards the stair case that lead up to their rooms. The girl watched him go, then turned and made her way back to the door of the tavern.

"I thought you said it was raining outside," Merlin said. She paused and turned to look back at him.

"Of course," she responded with a smile. "But, maybe I should try to get home before I get too wet. I may still have a chance."

Merlin nodded and watched as she once more opened the door and made her way outside. Once it closed behind her, the black-haired warlock made his way to the bar, interrupting Gwaine's conversation with Urie.

"Do you know who she was?" he asked her casually. Urie glanced over her shoulder at him and shrugged, nodding towards the door.

"That girl? Oh, dunno about her. Seen her around, I guess. Probably someone's daughter, come to see if the King is as handsome as everyone says," she laughed lightly and turned back to her polishing.

"I saw her last night, talking to a man," Merlin said. "You don't know if she's married?"

"Girls like her probably go through the men like some of us go through underclothes!" the motherly woman replied with another laugh. "She's nothing to worry about. Her father'll probably come down on her for trying to flirt with the king. Only wish _I_ had nerves like she does."

Merlin laughed politely, but his mind was elsewhere. He had not liked the way she…_felt_. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something about her that had unnerved him. Was it the look in her eyes as she'd talked to Arthur? Or maybe it was the way that she had seemed almost _too_ perfect?

Whatever it was, it had his magic jangling in the back of his mind. It was almost giving him a headache.

"Cheer up, Merlin," Gwaine said, clapping the black-haired boy on the back. "I'm sure we'll get this all sorted out soon. Here, have another drink."

Merlin politely declined Gwaine's offer and made his way back towards the stairs where Arthur had also disappeared. However, just before he reached the first step, he stopped and turned back.

"Gwaine?" he asked. The long-haired knight looked up at him, eyebrows raised.

"Do you think you could help me with something?"

Gwaine placed the tankard in his hand back down on the bar and half-smiled.

"It'll have to be something incredibly interesting to get me away from here," the long-haired knight replied.

Merlin smirked.

"Oh, you know," he said airily. "I'm only going down to the docks to see if I can find any information on how the fishermen died."

Gwaine sniffed and studied his half-empty drink. After a moment he shrugged.

"Eh, might as well come along and make sure you don't hurt yourself, eh Merlin?" he said, swaggering over to join the young servant. Merlin rolled his eyes with a smile.

"Yeah, that's exactly it," he agreed sarcastically.

* * *

True to Arabell's word in the bar, the weather was beginning to deteriorate again, and once they reached the docks the clouds were already spitting rain at them. It hadn't even really started (different from Arabell's claim), but it was just enough to let both boy and knight know that another wave of storms was coming. Their time out here wouldn't be for too long, and Merlin was determined to get the most out of it.

"What are we looking for?" Gwaine asked, as he lifted up one of the many black tarpaulins covering the wrecked boats. Merlin shrugged as he wandered around the shingle, his eyes intent on the waves that churned off the coast, their heads whipped to foam by the distant turbulence of the storm.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Anything that looks suspicious."

"You really think there's magic involved?" Gwaine asked. Merlin glanced over his shoulder at the knight.

"I think there's more going on here than there seems," he answered darkly. Gwaine raised his eyebrows, impressed.

"Optimism is not your strong point, huh Merlin?" the long-haired knight noted. Merlin rolled his eyes.

"Very funny," he retorted. "I don't want to miss something that could bring a lot of danger to this town."

"Fair enough," Gwaine consented, lowering the tarp back over the wreck of the boat.

"I'm going to check out the other boats moored at the dock," Merlin said, crossing back over the shoreline. "There may be something over there that was missed."

Gwaine nodded as the servant made his way to where the few boats that hadn't been taken out onto the sea were tied, bobbing in the ever-rising tide. As he did that, the long-haired knight turned his attention to a rocky outcropping that jutted out into the churning sea water. For a moment, he glanced away, but when he looked back, he was absolutely certain he had seen something slip between those rocks into the water. But what was it?

The knight glanced briefly over his shoulder at Merlin, and then made his way across the shingle towards the rocks. Carefully, mindful of how slippery the boulders where, Gwaine picked his way to where he thought he had seen the….well, whatever he'd seen.

The waves were crashing up against the sides of the rocks, and Gwaine cursed as he struggled to see through the sea foam that was continuously splashing into his eyes, burning them with the salty silt. But as he peered into the churning grey water, he thought for certain he saw a form there –

He didn't even have time to react before it burst through the water's surface and grabbed him around the ankles.

Merlin heard the knight's cry, and he spun just in time to see Gwaine being pulled off the rocks and into the water. The servant winced as the man's head bounced off one of the rocks before disappearing under the surf. But he didn't have long to think. In an instant he was running across the sand as fast as he could towards the rocks. His boots slipped and skidded on the wet sand, but eventually he reached the outcropping and made his way, painfully slowly, across the boulders.

"Gwaine!" he yelled, squinting against the crashing waves that kept obstructing his view, as well as showering him with salty spray. "Gwaine!"

He briefly saw a flash of Gwaine's chain mail, and before he even entirely thought through what he was doing, the servant leaped head-first into the water.

Merlin had never been a very good swimmer. Yes, he had been able to swim well enough to fish Arthur out of the lake after he'd been pushed into it by the Sidhe, but that had been a calm, not-too-deep lake, and the worst thing he'd had to deal with was Arthur's weight and some mud. But this was totally different. For one, he had not even taken into consideration how much salt water would burn his eyes. Even with all his will power, as he struggled to find Gwaine in the silty, blue-grey water, he had a hard time just keeping his eyes open with how much the salty water stung them. But besides that, there was also the fact that the water was churned up by the storm, and there was a strong current pulling at his body. And the fact that the water was just plain _cold_.

Despite everything, the warlock kicked out, forcing himself through the churning water in search for the missing knight. For just a moment, he caught another glimpse of metal armor, and he struck out towards that, muscles burning as he desperately fought the current.

Merlin realized beyond the shadow of a doubt that Gwaine had not just slipped and fallen. He'd been _pulled_ by something. For one thing, Merlin kept catching glimmers of what looked like a tail or something like a tail. He wasn't entirely sure what the creature was, but whatever it was it was built to swim under water, while Merlin was not.

Also, was that a hand, holding onto Gwaine's arm? How…could that be?

His lungs were burning, and eventually the warlock had to surface. He gasped for air and looked wildly around, trying to get an eyeball on the knight again. Once more, there was the glimmer of a tail and the flash of shining chain mail, and Merlin was diving again.

This time, he was prepared. They were just close enough to the rocks so that the young warlock could see them just above the surface. His narrowed his eyes and concentrated.

His irises flashed gold as he incanted a spell in his mind. Just as he wanted, one of the boulders toppled and fell into the water, right onto the strange sea creature. Merlin saw the hand release Gwaine's arm and disappear, hopefully being taken to the sea floor by the boulder. Merlin reached forward, the blood pounding in his temples, his lungs screaming for air, and grabbed Gwaine by the arm. Merlin kicked out, wishing that he'd thought to leave his coat and boots behind before embarking on his little swim. Both were pulling him down, now, along with Gwaine's added weight. The chain mail wasn't helping either.

Merlin struggled to raise himself to the surface, but it just seemed too far away. Panic shot through his mind as he clawed desperately at the water, for a moment scared that he would run out of oxygen before he broke the surface.

But then his toes just touched the sea floor and Merlin managed to pull himself along until his head broke the surface. He gasped, coughing out the stinging seawater from his throat and mouth. Eyes still burning from the salt, he struggled to pull Gwaine the rest of the way out of the water, until they were once more back up on the sand. There, Merlin fell to his knees and inspected the unconscious knight.

Blood oozed from a wound on the back of Gwaine's head, from where he'd struck it against the rock when he'd been pulled in. Merlin pulled his soggy scarf off his neck and pressed it to the wound in attempt to stem the bleeding.

"Gwaine!" he called, shaking the knight, but there was no response. Merlin looked over at the water, but didn't see any sign of the creature that had attacked them. He hadn't even gotten that clear of a view of it when he'd been underwater. He had no idea what that thing was, or what it had wanted with Gwaine.

Merlin shuddered, though, and felt his magic churning inside him like the seawater against the boulders and the shoreline. Whatever it was that had attacked Gwaine, it was _evil_.

The black haired servant looked up and happened to see a fishing boat coming back into the docks, obviously intent on getting back to shore before the storm hit. Merlin raised a hand and waved it wildly in their direction.

"Hey!" he called. The two men in the boat raised their heads and saw them, and, to Merlin's relief, they nodded and called back that they were coming to help.

* * *

"What happened?" Arthur demanded as he followed Merlin and the two fishermen carrying Gwaine's body into the room which Gwaine and Leon had been sharing. Merlin instructed them to lay the man gently on the bed, which they did. Urie had been at the bar when they had come in, and, after some general shocked squawking over both the state of Gwaine and Merlin, she'd run off to get bandages and the few medicines that she kept.

"We were down at the docks," Merlin said, checking Gwaine over after the fishermen had laid the knight down on the bed. "Gwaine went out on the rocks and…."

Merlin trailed off. He wasn't entirely sure if he should tell Arthur that something pulled Gwaine in.

_Something with the tail of a fish and the hand of a human….._

"And _what_?" Arthur prompted. Merlin looked up and met Arthur's icy blue eyed-stare.

"…And something pulled him in," he answered, bluntly. One of Arthur's eyebrows rose.

"'Pulled him in'?" he repeated slowly. Merlin nodded.

"Yes," he confirmed.

"And just _what_ pulled him in?" Arthur pressed, his voice halfway between incredulous and believing.

Merlin looked back down at Gwaine's still form.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I didn't see it that clearly."

Arthur opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment Urie bustled into the room, her arms full of bandages, bottles, and blankets.

"Here," Merlin said, beginning to unlatch Gwaine's armor. "Help me get this off."

In a few minutes they'd successfully removed Gwaine's armor, chain mail, and shirt, and Urie had bundled the knight it so many layers of blankets he looked like a mummy.

Merlin finished fixing the bandage around the knight's head, which was fairly difficult seeing that by that time his fingers were feeling fairly numb. The adrenaline that had been pumping through his blood while he had pulled Gwaine out of the water and then got him back to the inn was starting to drain away. Now he was beginning to realize just how _cold_ he felt.

He hadn't even realized he'd started shivering until Urie made a fuss over it.

"Oh, you poor thing," she said. "You must be freezing! Let me get you a blanket and some hot tea. There you go. Don't need you catching your death, do we?"

With that, she hurried away again, and Merlin and Arthur were left alone once more. The fisherman had left several minutes before, after they'd deposited Gwaine's body on the bed.

"Will he be alright?" Arthur asked. Merlin nodded, wrapping his arms around himself and trying to keep his teeth from chattering.

"Yeah, he'll be fine," he said. "He probably has a concussion, though. I'll have to watch over him to make sure he's okay during the night. But he'll be alright with some rest."

A moment of awkward silence passed between the two as they both sat (or in Arthur's case, stood) there and watched Gwaine in silence.

"You didn't see what attacked him?" Arthur asked, breaking the silence. Merlin shook his head.

"No," he admitted. "But it wasn't…._natural_. Whatever it was."

Arthur was silent for a long moment.

"Do you believe me now that it may be magic?" Merlin asked, seriously. Arthur rubbed the back of his neck and let out a breath.

"I don't know," he answered finally. "All I know is that it attacked one of my knights, and whatever it is, it's dangerous to these people. Other than that, all I have is your word to go off of that it might be magic. And you're hardly the world's expert on magic, Merlin."

_You'd be surprised,_ the servant thought wryly, but obviously did not say this aloud. Before he could continue the conversation with Arthur, Urie once more interrupted, this time with a blanket for Merlin and a cup of hot tea, both which the black-haired boy gratefully accepted.

"Now, you call me if you need anything," she said, patting him on his now-blanketed shoulder and then looking sadly at Gwaine. After Merlin promised that he would do so, she curtsied to Arthur and then swept out of the room.

For a moment, Merlin was certain Arthur was going to continue on about what had attacked them, but instead he changed the subject.

"So, you're going to be in here tonight, then?" the blonde asked. Merlin nodded.

"I have to look after Gwaine," he said. Then he smirked. "Unless you're going to miss my presence _that_ much, Arthur," he added. The look on Arthur's face was priceless as he glared daggers at his servant.

"Merlin," he snapped. "What have I said about you trying to be funny?"

The smirk still lingered on Merlin's face.

"I shouldn't," he answered. Arthur nodded.

"Good, you're learning," he replied tersely. Merlin fought a laugh, even as Arthur still glared slightly at him. The blonde king made his way to the door of the small room and glanced back.

"Let me know if anything changes," he said, back to seriousness now. Merlin nodded.

"Yes, Sire," he answered respectfully and Arthur nodded before walking out and closing the door behind him. Merlin adjusted the blanket around his shoulders and took another swig of the tea, allowing it to warm him from the inside out and quell his shivering slightly. But as he looked at Gwaine lying unconscious before him, his mind went back to the creature he'd briefly glimpsed underwater. He shuddered despite the warm blanket and hot drink.

Because he knew what he was going to have to do.

He was going to have to fight it, with or without Arthur.

* * *

**A/N:** So...who's this mysterious girl who's flirting with Arthur? And does she have anything to do with the attack on Gwaine? More to come!


	9. Chilling Song

**A/N: **Happy Friday, everyone!

* * *

**Chapter 8- Chilling Song**

Gwaine awoke sometime later in the evening, and Merlin had his hands full for the rest of the night making sure he was well taken care of. Around midnight the warlock finally dozed off, but was jerked back awake by a sense of duty that he needed to keep watch over the knight. Gwaine definitely had a concussion, and therefor Merlin had to wake him periodically to make sure there were no ill effects of the head injury. However, this meant that the black-haired servant himself received barely any sleep at all and the by time the light of day was filtering through the fog into the windows of the inn room, Merlin could hardly keep his eyes open.

He jerked himself awake once more as he began to drift back to sleep again, and looked down at Gwaine. He was asleep once more, and the warlock stretched, trying to force himself into wakefulness. Finally, he decided that maybe some breakfast would help, and he stood and walked out into the hallway between the rooms and down the stairs to the tavern below.

Arthur was already down there, and Merlin wasn't surprised to see the blond king already engrossed in a large meal. Urie caught sight of Merlin coming down the stairs and called a cheery good morning to him.

"Breakfast?" she asked. Merlin nodded with a tired smile.

"That'd be nice," he confirmed. She gave him a nod and disappeared into the kitchen beyond the bar.

Merlin took a seat across from Arthur and glanced around.

"Where are the guards?" he asked. Arthur barely looked up.

"I gave them the day off," he responded. Suddenly, his blue eyes met Merlin's and he glared angrily at the black-haired servant. "Aren't I allowed to give my own guards the day off?"

Merlin blinked and raised his hands.

"Alright," he answered. "You're in a great mood this morning."

"Sorry," Arthur grunted, turning back to his breakfast. "Didn't get much sleep last night."

"That makes two of us," Merlin answered. Arthur didn't speak for a moment as he munched away on a sausage.

"How's Gwaine?" he finally asked. Merlin shrugged.

"He'll be fine," he answered. "He just needs some rest."

Arthur grunted in response and went back to his eating. Merlin studied the young monarch.

"Why didn't you sleep last night?" the black haired servant asked. Arthur didn't even spare him a glance.

"I was with Arabell," he answered.

Merlin stared.

"I'm sorry?" he replied after a moment of shock. Arthur looked up at him.

"I was with Arabell," he repeated. "What are you, deaf?"

"Why were you with _her_?" Merlin demanded, recalling the look of hunger in the woman's eyes. He hadn't liked her one bit.

Unfortunately, his question did not go over well with Arthur and the blonde slammed a hand down angrily on the table.

"Damn it, Merlin, what does it matter?" he almost yelled. "Can't I be with who I want? Or do I have to get approval from _you_ for everything?"

Merlin's forehead creased in confusion. This was more than just Arthur's typical morning grouchiness. He'd never seen the young king act this way.

"Okay, okay," Merlin said. "Calm down."

Arthur gave him one last glare and returned to his food. Urie returned from the kitchen with a plate of breakfast for Merlin as well, which she set in front of him. Merlin thanked her and she smiled and left them, returning to her work. Merlin began to work through the sausage and eggs on his plate, whilst keeping a close eye on Arthur. Eventually, though, he had to break the silence with a question.

"I was thinking," he said carefully, aware of the strange temper Arthur seemed to have developed this morning. "After Gwaine was attacked, maybe we should go back to the councilors. This time we have evidence, and I'm sure that Gwaine will be able to tell them what he saw once he's had a chance to rest."

"No."

Arthur's answer was blunt and Merlin studied him carefully.

"But, Arthur, there's something out there that – "

"_No_, Merlin," Arthur repeated. "There's nothing out there. These people are perfectly safe."

Now it was Merlin's chance to get annoyed.

"What?" he demanded. "Arthur, you've _seen_ the boats! And you've heard the stories from these people! There's something going on, and we need to get to the bottom of it!"

"You're wrong, Merlin," Arthur said, standing. "There's nothing going on here. The wrecks were accidents, and so was what happened to Gwaine. Now shut up before I _make_ you."

Merlin rose to meet Arthur. Unlike most servants, he did not fear challenging the king when it needed to be done.

"Gwaine was _attacked_," Merlin retorted. "I was there, Arthur. I _saw_ it. And those wrecks aren't natural. Something is going on, and these people are in _danger_. I know you won't leave them to it."

"Are you challenging my decision?" Arthur demanded, stepping around the table and towards Merlin. The blazing blue fire in his eyes was almost frightening, but Merlin stood his ground.

"These people need our help, Arthur," he said, seriously. Arthur raised a finger and jabbed it in Merlin's face.

"Now you listen to me," he said slowly, icily. "_I_ am the king. And I don't need _you_ deciding what should be done. Is that understood?"

"Arthur –"

"_Is that understood?"_

Merlin glared into Arthur's flaming blue eyes, but finally backed down. He didn't know what was up with the blonde this morning, but whatever it was, Merlin wasn't too keen to tangle with it right now. He'd talk to Arthur again when he was a little more civilized.

"Yes," he finally answered through gritted teeth. Arthur nodded.

"Good," he said and turned to walk towards the door.

"Where are you going?" he called to the young king. Arthur didn't answer, and walked out into the fog. Merlin waited for him to come back, but after a few moments he finally sat back down. Suddenly, his breakfast wasn't so appetizing.

Merlin sighed and rubbed his face with a hand. After a long moment, he stood, leaving the half-eaten food on the table and returning to the stairs. He made his way back to Gwaine's room to find the knight sitting upright, awake.

"Good morning," Merlin said as he crossed over to the knight. "How do you feel?"

"As good as to be expected," Gwaine admitted. "I heard you and the Princess down there. He didn't sound too thrilled."

Despite the situation, Merlin half-smirked. Even after Arthur had been made king, Gwaine still jokingly referred to the blonde as Princess.

"Arthur was being a prat this morning," Merlin replied. Gwaine chuckled.

"Nothing new then, eh?" he joked. But Merlin didn't find it as funny. Arthur's behavior this morning was unlike anything he'd ever witnessed before. It just wasn't _like_ him to speak like that, even to Merlin. Even so, he didn't want to bother Gwaine with it all. After all, it could be nothing and if Gwaine thought that Arthur might be coming down too hard on Merlin, the hotheaded knight might get it into his head to set the young king in his place. And that wouldn't bode well for anyone.

"Sit forward," Merlin instructed, changing the subject. "I need to check your wound."

Gwaine did as he was told and leaned forward. Merlin perched himself on the edge of the chair he'd positioned next to the knight's bed where he'd kept his vigil the night before. Gently, he unwrapped the bandage from Gwaine's head, then leaned forward to inspect the wound underneath. The blood had dried around it, and as of yet it didn't look infected, but Merlin knew he needed to keep it clean to prevent any complications. Fortunately, the salt water had probably sterilized it, but he couldn't take a chance.

"I'll need to change the bandage out and probably apply some more honey," he said, re-wrapping the wound. "I'll be back in a minute."

"I'll be here," Gwaine said, leaning back once more. Merlin eyed him carefully, though there was a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"You'd _better_ stay here or you'll have more than a concussion to worry about," the servant warned. Gwaine laughed as Merlin left the room and once more made his way downstairs.

"Urie?" he called. The ample woman came out from the kitchen, bright-eyed and smiling as usual.

"What is it, love?" she asked. "How's our invalid?"

"He'll be fine," Merlin said. "But I need to change out the bandage. Do you have any more honey?"

Urie frowned and shook her head.

"No, I'm sorry, sweets," she said. "Just used the last few drops this morning in a cake. We're fresh out. But if you need it, I'll go out and get some more."

"No, that's fine," Merlin said, shaking his head. "I'll get it myself."

"Well, if you're going to do that, here," she said, and reached into a pocket in her apron and pulled out a silver coin, which she handed to Merlin.

"Are you sure?" he asked, not quite comfortable with taking money from someone he had only met a few days ago. After all, this was money that she'd made running the tavern. He didn't want to use her hard-earned wages.

"No, honestly, take it," she said. "I wouldn't want you buying it with your own money, love."

Merlin was slightly wrong-footed for a moment, but eventually smiled and nodded.

"Thank you," he said, sincerely. She waved a hand in dismissal.

"Don't mention it. Anything for that poor friend of yours," she winked at him, and then turned back to cleaning the bar. Merlin figured it was her way of saying that the money was his and that was the end of it. Deciding that pressing the matter would be impolite, the young warlock turned and left the tavern, stepping outside into the foggy morning light. As Merlin made his way down the cobbled streets to where he'd seen the markets and traders during his trips down to the docks, he reflected on the fact that this mist was rather eerie. He knew that it wasn't unnatural for a seaside town to get fog, but was it natural for them to have it every morning as this town did? And for it to roll in at the same time every night? Always just after the sun set. Merlin had no previous experience with port towns, but that type of weather anywhere would be odd, wouldn't it?

He thought about maybe mentioning it to Arthur later, if he ever found him, but after remembering the blonde's strange behavior at breakfast this morning decided against it. Maybe Arthur had just had a little too much to drink last night down in the tavern and had a hangover.

But, something still nagged at the back of Merlin's mind about Arthur's strange mood. Nothing about it had been typical for the young king. Arthur never lashed out like that. Sure, he occasionally got annoyed at Merlin or one of his knights, but his display this morning seemed over the top. Or was it just his imagination?

The sounds of the market reached the black-haired boy's ears before he actually saw the stands and the merchants. Even with the fog hanging around, the strange occurrences with the missing fishermen, life in the tiny town of Halen went on. Like it must, Merlin knew. Even in the midst of tragedy, life must go on. It was the way people worked.

Merlin turned a corner and was greeted with the sight of a bustling small street market. Nowhere near the size of the ones in Camelot, but this being a port town, they had imports coming in and out almost constantly, giving even a small town like Halen the chance to have a bustling economy for such a small village.

The booths lining the streets offered a number of goods, including dyed fabrics and yarns, wooden wares, dried and cured meats and vegetables, and just about anything the people in Halen could need. However, it was a booth selling different types of herbs and other plant products that Merlin strangely enough found the honey he was looking for. After selecting a jar, he paid the merchant and pocketed the change to return to Urie at the tavern. Although he knew it would be interesting to see some of the other wares the booths and stands had to offer, Merlin also knew his obligations. Gwaine's head wound needed to be treated, and he should also be there when Arthur eventually came back to see if he could talk to the blonde again. Hopefully Arthur would be a little less hostile.

Honey in hand, the young warlock thanked the merchant and began his ascent back up the rather steep streets of Halen to the inn that was perched much higher up the seaside cliff. The fog was fading now, being whisked away by the ever-strengthening sun. But the dampness still hung in the air, and a heavy wind off the water whipped Merlin's hair and scarf around as he continued up the cobbled roads.

As he passed a certain set of small homes along the edge of the street, Merlin stopped. Had he just heard music? The wind was whipping around him, but he thought for certain that he'd heard the very distinct sound of someone singing.

"Hello?" he called, wondering if the sound was coming from an alley between two of the small stone houses. He stepped forward, but the music seemed to have gone. He paused and closed his eyes, holding his breath and listening. Typically, he wouldn't have cared, but there was something about that song that sounded….no, _felt_ wrong. Something told him to leave it alone, but another part told him to find out what it was. It could be something he needed to see.

The song came again, carried on the breeze. A chill crept down his spine that had nothing to do with the wind that was whipping at his face and hair. The music was bone-chilling. Though he had only caught a brief snippet, he had heard it clearly enough: it had been a high, fluctuating sound, beautiful yet dangerous at the same time. It instinctively made him want to step back, but yet he ignored his instincts and pressed on.

"Hello?" he called once more, starting again towards the alley. The music drifted around him, a strange whispering, lilting melody that made his skin tingle, and his magic stir inside him. He tried to understand the words, but just couldn't make out what they were. If they were even real words at all. He turned slowly around, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound, trying to find who was making that music. But despite his best efforts, he couldn't seem to track it to a specific location. No matter how he turned, the song didn't get any louder or softer. It was as if the strange tune was coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. First it was behind them, then to the side, then in front of him, and then it was everywhere at once, all around him all the time. Merlin gritted his teeth as the song seemed to crescendo. It set every nerve in his body on edge, and he had to fight the urge to defend himself with magic. But defend himself against what? He couldn't understand.

And yet, after a brief, intense moment, the song suddenly ended. The silence that followed was almost deafening. Merlin spun on his heel, trying to listen for it once more. But even after waiting several moments for it to return, there was still nothing. Whatever, whoever had been making that music, it was gone now. Gone as quickly as it had appeared.

Merlin backed up, out of the shadowed alleyway and back into the sunlit street. He glanced around once again, his forehead creased in confusion. But no one was around him, and the strange, beautiful yet chilling melody was gone, whisked away by the wind.

Merlin swallowed hard and turned slowly to continue his walk back up the cobbled streets and back to the inn, not just a little unnerved.

* * *

**A/N:** You guys are too smart. I'm going to stop asking questions that you can answer in the comments. Haha. But anyways, the action is beginning to peak a little, no? Come back Monday to see what happens next! And, as always, thanks for the comments! Have a fun and safe weekend.


	10. Pieces

**Chapter 9- Pieces **

Merlin was still feeling slightly unnerved when he returned to the inn. His thoughts were dark and confused as he opened the door to the tavern and stepped back into its wooden depths. He glanced up to see a handful of people already inside, participating in afternoon tankards of ale and lunches of thick fish stews. Merlin could smell the scent of fresh fish cooking in thick, richly flavored broth and his stomach began to growl.

But his initial salivation was interrupted when a half-hearted scan of the bar area revealed Gwaine standing near it, drinking deeply from a tankard and chatting with Urie. Matthew stood beside them, looking off into the distance. His weathered brown face retained its typical worried expression.

Merlin stomped forward, and Gwaine looked up, flashing a rakish smile at his young friend.

"Ah, Merlin," he said cheerily, saluting him by raising his tankard before taking another swig. "I was wondering when you were going to come back."

Merlin glowered at the long-haired knight.

"Gwaine," he said, annoyed. "You're _supposed_ to be in bed."

The knight shrugged.

"Eh, I got bored," was his only excuse. "And look who wandered back in here again."

He nodded to Matthew, who acknowledged Merlin with a nod and the attempts at a smile. Merlin had the feeling that smiling was not typically one of the movements that the old fisherman's face was used to.

"Came in and said that Isaiah wanted to see us all again," Gwaine finished.

"That's right," Matthew replied. "Isaiah contacted me this morning, apologized for the…lack of hospitality that the council showed you all and the King. He wishes you to come to his house tonight, for dinner, to make it up."

Hearing mention of Arthur, Merlin recalled the way the blonde had burst out of the tavern earlier that morning.

"Has Arthur come back yet?" the young warlock asked. Gwaine nodded and rolled his eyes.

"You just missed him," the knight replied. "And you were right about him this morning. He's in one hell of a mood."

"Tell me about it," Merlin mumbled. Then he turned his annoyed glare back onto Gwaine.

"Your wound needs to be treated," he told the knight as sternly as he could, seeing that he was a few inches shorter and at least fifty pounds lighter than the man who could probably kill him at least thirty different ways. "Get back to bed."

Gwaine sighed theatrically and slammed his tankard back down on the tavern bar.

"Better do as he says," he said dramatically to Urie. "You never know: he might salt the stew too much."

The barmaid laughed as if this was the best joke she had ever heard. Merlin rolled his eyes and followed Gwaine up the stairs back to the upper rooms, making sure the long-haired knight didn't get any ideas about taking a detour to find another drink somehow. Once Merlin had corralled him back into his room and watched with sharp eyes as the knight settled himself back down onto his bed, he carefully unwound the bandage from around his head and applied more honey to it. Once that was done, he rewrapped the wound and gave Gwaine a measured look.

"You need to stay quiet for a little while longer," he told him forcefully.

"Yes, Mother," Gwaine teased. Merlin frowned. But suddenly, he was serious again and sat on the chair he'd pulled up to Gwaine's bedside the night before. He looked closely at the bearded man.

"Gwaine," he said. "Did you see what grabbed you?"

Gwaine shifted his position on the bed and raised a hand to run his fingers through his hair, but suddenly thought better of the idea and instead rubbed the back of his neck.

"I saw something moving in the water," he replied, his dark eyes staring off into the distance. "I went to see what it was, but it was moving too fast to really see. I don't remember seeing anything when I was underwater."

"You were unconscious," Merlin confirmed. "But when you saw it in the water, did you see _anything_? Anything at all?"

Gwaine thought for a few moments, and then slowly shook his head.

"Sorry, Merlin," he apologized. "All I know was I've never seen a fish that looked like that."

Merlin sighed, feeling a little defeated. Arthur would have been forced to believe him if one of his own knights had seen what Merlin thought he saw. But Gwaine had probably suffered memory loss from the blow to his head. It was a common side effect of a concussion. All they had to go off of was Merlin's own view of the creature, and not even he really believed what he had seen.

He _needed_ something else. But what else could he get?

"What about you?" Gwaine suddenly asked. "You were underwater, weren't you? Did you see it?"

Merlin looked steadily at Gwaine. Once more, in his memory, he could see the flash of a scaled tail, the then flash of water over human-like flesh, a hand gripping Gwaine as it pulled him through the water. Merlin almost shuddered, but he held it back.

"Yes," he said carefully. "And that's what worries me."

Without any further explanation, Merlin stood and made his way to the door of Gwaine's room and out into the hallway that spanned the length of the separate bedrooms. He made his way back to the room he shared with Arthur and opened the door. The blonde was in there, once more sitting with the small desk he'd packed. He said nothing as Merlin entered.

"What are you doing?" he asked casually, deciding that starting another conversation about the possibility of danger in Halen was probably not the best idea right now.

"What does it matter?" Arthur snapped back sulkily. Okay, so he wasn't as outwardly confrontational as he had been this morning, but he certainly was still in one hell of a bad mood, as Gwaine had put it earlier.

"I was just wondering," Merlin replied with a shrug. Arthur glared at him.

"Report back to Camelot," he replied in a clipped tone. "The kingdom doesn't run itself, you know."

"I'm sure Gwen is taking good care of Aggravaine, if that's what's worrying you," Merlin put in casually. Arthur gave his servant an odd look.

"What does Gwen have to do with Aggravaine?"

Merlin raised an eyebrow.

"You told her to help him out," he replied. "Don't you remember?"

"Why would I say that?" Arthur asked, annoyed. "She's just a servant."

"You…trust Gwen more than anyone," Merlin said slowly, beginning to become confused. Had Arthur just put Gwen off as a servant? But….Arthur thought so much more of Gwen….

"Gwen is a servant, Merlin," Arthur replied flatly. "I trust her the same way I trust any of the servants. Not nearly enough to run a kingdom in my absence."

"Arthur," Merlin said, stepping forward. "We're talking about Gwen here. You know. _Guinevere._"

"I know precisely who we're talking about," Arthur replied, his annoyance beginning to peak. "And I want to know why you're so keen to talk about her. What does she have to do with _anything_, Merlin?"

"Arthur – "

"If you're just going to stand there talking about random servant girls you fancy and waste my time, you can _leave_, Merlin!"

Arthur's blue eyes bored into Merlin's own cerulean, and the servant took an involuntary step back. There was a strange mix of anger in there that scared him. But there was something behind the anger, too. Something he couldn't quite understand.

"But – " he desperately tried to argue. Suddenly, for no apparent reason, Arthur threw the desk off his lap and leaped to his feet, his eyes flashing with rage.

"I said _you are dismissed,_" he yelled. Merlin blinked and, in spite of himself, quickly made his exit from the room, leaving the strangely irate Arthur alone.

Merlin descended the stairs and found himself back down in the bar area. For some reason he was panting. Arthur's mood was far beyond just that of a rough night of sleep or a few too many drinks the night before. There was something very _wrong_ with the young king, but Merlin couldn't ask the blonde without running the risk of having his brains knocked in by something.

He felt something jingling in the pocket of his breeches and remembered with a wince that he still had the change from the jar of honey he'd bought with Urie's money. As he approached the area where he and Gwaine had just been, he found that both Urie and Matthew were still there.

"I forgot," he said to the large, cheery woman who was serving Matthew another tankard of ale. "I have the change from the honey."

He reached into his pocket and handed over the few copper coins that the merchant at the stand had returned to him that morning. Urie thanked him copiously and told him to wait right where he was: she would fetch him some fish stew right away. With one last large smile, she disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Merlin and Matthew alone at the bar.

Merlin, thoughts still troubled from his second encounter with Arthur, stared darkly at the bar surface, his eyes tracing but not really seeing the wood grain that ran along the length of the counter. Only when Matthew spoke was he snapped out of his reverie.

"Merlin," the man said, his voice so low that Merlin almost felt it rather than heard it. The warlock's head snapped up and he found Matthew staring oddly at him.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Merlin nodded.

"Yes. Arthur – uh, King Arthur, that is – is acting strange, is all," he answered. Matthew frowned slightly, but there was apparently more on the old fisherman's mind that just why the young boy had been studying the bar with such seeming fascination.

"Merlin," he said the servant's name again as if he was certain that the black-haired boy would forget he was talking to him if he didn't keep repeating himself. "I wouldn't have brought this up if I didn't think you were interested, but there is something I want you to know. You and the King are still willing to help us with the disappearances, yes?"

Merlin nodded.

"At least, _I_ am," he answered, thinking of Arthur's response to his introduction of the subject that morning. Matthew seemed to relax a little, but he still kept his voice down.

"Tonight, you will be eating at Isaiah's house," he told the warlock. "I know that Isaiah has certain books on local lore and legends. He may have something that may help us."

"Something about mermaids…" Merlin muttered to himself. Matthew studied him.

"What?" the old fisherman asked. Merlin looked back up at him.

"Your daughter," he answered. "Seems to think what's causing all this is mermaids."

Matthew glanced over his shoulder around at the other patrons in the bar, as if he and Merlin were discussing matters of utmost secrecy.

"She did not think of the idea herself," Matthew replied, his old eyes containing a measure of fear. "It's long been thought that mermaids have inhabited the coasts around Halen. The legends were eventually put down as old wives' tales, but what has been happening lately is certainly not natural. I fear that the stories may be more than legends spun to entertain children."

Merlin nodded to himself slowly and sighed.

"There has to be a pattern to the deaths," the warlock noted. Matthew nodded, but it was clear that the man who was used to wrestling with the sea was out of his depth in these areas.

"Who was the last man to die?" Merlin suddenly asked, looking up.

"His name was Erik," Matthew answered. "I believe you actually met him."

"Did I?" Merlin pressed, confused. He didn't remember meeting anyone by that name. Matthew shrugged.

"I use the word loosely," the man answered. "The knight – Gwaine, I believe his name is – ran into him a few nights ago. He was the angry one."

Merlin recalled the scene a few nights ago when Gwaine, on attempt to refill his tankard, had run into and enraged the young, dark haired man who had been sitting at the back table.

Merlin blinked suddenly, as the memory came back into full view. The man had been sitting at the table with that girl. What was her name? Arabell? Merlin had also seen them at the docks when Matthew had first given them a tour of Halen.

"Erik…." Merlin said slowly. "He was with that girl. Arabell."

"And?" Matthew asked.

"Arthur was with her," Merlin replied, lost in thought. But what did that have to do with anything? He hadn't _liked_ the girl, but there was no connection between her and the rest of this.

"You think that may be important?" Matthew asked. "That the king was with the same girl another man was fraternizing with? How could that be important?"

"I don't know," Merlin admitted. "But I think we'll find out tonight, with Isaiah."

* * *

**A/N:** Merlin's bound to get some answers pretty soon, but what kind is yet to be seen. Come back Friday to find out!


	11. Dinner With Isaiah

**Chapter 10- Dinner With Isaiah**

After Arthur's initial bad mood both that morning and that afternoon, Merlin had been concerned that the blonde king might refuse to attend the dinner that Isaiah had invited them to. However, irate or not, Arthur's sense of duty had apparently compelled him to come, along with Merlin and Gwaine (whom Merlin had given permission to attend the dinner, as long as he didn't spend his night in the tavern after they returned) to the old councilman's home. The two guards were apparently still off duty. Merlin hadn't seen them since that morning and had no idea what they'd found to do in a town as small as Halen, but he assumed they'd found something better than hanging around the tavern all day. Odd, though, that they still hadn't turned up.

Matthew, whose outfit tonight included some better-quality peasant clothes, complete with a leather sack he had draped over his shoulder, led the way further up the cliff that the town was mostly built into. Isaiah's home was even further up than the inn, and Merlin rather wondered how such an old man as the head councilman could get up and down the steep, winding and more often than not wet and slick roads.

The darkness had already crept into the town of Halen, and the fog had once again rolled in. Fortunately, even though the thick, damp, low-hanging clouds clung to the sky, there was no sound of distant thunder or lightning, no gathering storm clouds. Despite the mist, the night seemed peaceful.

Arthur remained silent as they climbed the cliff, and once in a while Gwaine and Merlin shot glances at each other as the party trudged along. The silence was almost deafening.

Finally, however, light could be seen glowing through the thick mist, and Merlin could just make out the outline of a large, sturdy house before them. Like most village leaders, Isaiah's house was one of the largest in the town. It was made from sturdy wood and stone, both which showed signs of weathering from the constant beating of storms and wind. Isaiah's house had probably been the first in Halen to be built. And though it showed its age, it did not seem at all decrepit or unstable. It was weather beaten, but, similar to the old fishermen of the council, the beating had only made it stronger.

Matthew led them up to the heavy wooden front door and rapped loudly on it. Merlin could hear the sound of footsteps inside, and the grinding metal as the old hinges on the door protested against being made to move. The door was slowly pulled open, and Isaiah's ancient, stooped form greeted them just inside the frame.

"Good evening, gentlemen," he grated, his voice just as old and dry-sounding as ever. "Please, come inside. The air is cold tonight."

Arthur nodded respectfully to the old man, and the party, including Matthew, made their way inside the house.

Unlike most other village houses, Isaiah's was surprisingly large inside. It even had a few separate rooms, though small. Merlin himself, who had grown up in a poor rural village, knew how rare it was for a villager to have a home with more than one main room. The main space, which they stood in now, was warmed by a fire gently crackling in the hearth on the opposite wall. A thick black pot was suspended over it. There was a table in the middle of the room, set for five people. A thick loaf of bread was already set in the center, waiting to be eaten, alongside a jug probably containing ale.

"Please, my friends," the old man said, good-naturedly. "Be seated. I have plenty of food for us."

"Thank you for inviting us," Arthur said levelly as he settled at the table. Gwaine sat beside him. Merlin sat opposite Gwaine and Matthew sat beside Merlin and across from Arthur. Isaiah stood at the head of the table, Arthur on his left, Matthew on his right.

"It is the least I can do, to try and make up for my fellow councilmen's rough attitudes towards you," Isaiah replied. He held out a hand towards Arthur, gesturing for the wooden bowl that sat before the young king.

"Allow me to fill your bowl," he said. Arthur shook his head.

"There's no need," the young king said. "We are guests in your home. _Merlin_ can serve us."

Merlin opened his mouth to argue, for a moment forgetting the mood Arthur had been in all day, but Isaiah quickly interrupted.

"No, no, my king," he insisted. "Please, allow me to serve you. I am only a humble old fisherman. It would be an honor for me to serve my king."

Arthur frowned, obviously unsure.

"Are you certain?" he asked. Isaiah nodded.

"Yes, Sire. At my age, it would be a wonderful privilege."

Eventually Arthur relented, and Isaiah went to the pot at the fire and filled first Arthur's, then Gwaine's, Merlin's, Matthew's, and finally his own bowls with a thick, hearty fish stew, similar to the one Merlin had been served at the Seahorse Inn for lunch. But the servant didn't mind having it twice.

After Arthur's show of manners with Isaiah, Merlin was beginning to wonder if somehow the king's mood had worn off. He wouldn't be able to test it now, but maybe later he would finally be able to talk to Arthur about the danger that was lurking in the waters off the docks and what they could do to help these people.

_Speaking of which…_

Merlin recalled what Matthew had told him earlier, about how Isaiah had books on the local lore and legends. As the others ate their stew and talked, Merlin's eyes flickered discretely around the room searching for these fabled books. Matthew must have figured out what he was doing, as the man leaned over to whisper in Merlin's ear.

"Isaiah keeps his book collection in a separate room," the fisherman told him quietly whilst Arthur spoke with the head councilor. "After dinner, I will see if I can distract the others to allow you to find where he keeps them. Here, take this."

He pressed the leather shoulder bag into Merlin's arms under the table.

"Thank you," Merlin replied softly. The two returned to their eating, and Merlin was slightly more relaxed now when he saw Arthur seemingly returning to his typical self as he spoke to Isaiah. However, the young king kept the conversation far away from either politics or the missing fishermen. Merlin realized that, diplomatically speaking, this was probably a wise plan of action. However, the young warlock still found himself wanting to confront the old councilor over the disappearances and his unconcerned view of the entire situation. But, having seen Arthur's reaction to the subject earlier, and knowing that as a servant, he didn't have much of a place in order to talk anyways, he held his tongue.

So passed one of the longest dinners of Merlin's life. It seemed as if the polite conversation dragged on for hours as Merlin sat there, silent unless he was asked a direct question, not trusting himself to speak without bringing up topics that might get him in trouble. Not that Merlin typically cared, but he'd rather avoid another taste of Arthur's strange temper again, especially when they were in the home of the very man they were trying to bring around to see why he should be more lenient with trade agreements.

Finally, however, bowls were cleared away and Merlin was absolutely certain that they would be allowed to leave the table. However, much to his consternation, no one moved.

Merlin involuntarily began impatiently tapping the table with a finger.

Matthew glanced towards the black haired servant, and decided to come to his rescue. He stood.

"Isaiah," he said, directing his words, with respect, to the old man at the head of the table. "Even through the fog, you have a lovely view of the town off the top of the cliff here. Maybe King Arthur and his friends would like to see it."

Isaiah thought about this for a moment, then nodded sagely.

"I believe you are right, Brother Matthew," he said. "I will show it to them."

He slowly stood, pushing his chair back, and motioning to Arthur.

"Please, Sire," he said, voice rasping. "Follow me. I am sure the view from my house rivals even the view off the turrets of Camelot's castle!"

"I'll believe it when I see it," Arthur said, and Merlin was pleased to hear some light-heartedness from the blonde. Maybe his mood from earlier had faded with the afternoon. Merlin could only hope.

Merlin followed Isaiah, Arthur, Gwaine, and Matthew towards the doors, but hung back when the rest of the party exited the home and stepped into the night air. Matthew cast a glance over his shoulder and winked at the boy, a strange gesture from someone so solemn and serious. Merlin nodded and waited as Matthew closed the door behind him. With the others gone, Merlin retreated back into the fire-warmed house.

Matthew had said the books were contained within one of the rooms, but hadn't specifically told him which room. He doubted the old fisherman knew, and couldn't hold it against him. However, that also meant that Merlin would have to check each one in turn, to be sure.

There was a hallway with two doors jutting off the main room to his left, then another hallway with another two rooms on the opposite side to his right. Merlin went left first, trying to first door he came to. It was closed but not latched, and Merlin pushed it open easily. Inside was dark, but Merlin had a solution. He held his hand, palm up, close to his mouth.

**"Leoht,"** he commanded. His eyes briefly flashed gold and a light, almost like a tiny sun, began to glow within the palm of his hand. He held it up, its white glow illuminating the room around him, casting out the shadows and allowing him to make out his surroundings.

Unfortunately, this room did not contain what he was looking for. No books at all were illuminated by the tiny sun in his hand. Instead, it looked most like this was the room that Isaiah used as a bedroom. A second hearth, smaller than the one that burned in the main room, was set into the opposite wall, dark now. The old man would use it to keep himself warm on cold, foggy nights.

Merlin carefully closed the door to the bedroom and tried the next room, and once more the door swung open easily. A large metal tub was inside this one, and the heavy scent of dried herbs and spices attempted to disguise the chamber pot that sat in one corner. Merlin decided that he definitely wasn't going to find what he was looking for in here and left that one alone as well.

The first room in the hallway on the other side of the main room was locked. Interest piqued, Merlin decided that this held the most promise. He could see the latch on the other side of the door and focused on it.

**"Allinan ,"** he said, eyes flashing gold once again. The latch holding the door shut slowly shifted aside, and when Merlin pressed the solid wood with the hand not holding the light, it swung open without any resistance.

As Merlin stepped inside, holding the tiny glowing sun out in front of him, the objects of this room, too, came into the light. Merlin's heart leaped in his chest. This was what he had been looking for.

Matthew had spoken true. Though the old fisherman's collection was not nearly as large as even what Gaius possessed, it did take up a small, three-leveled bookshelf on the far side of the room – more than what a villager, even a leader, typically owned. The rest of the room was furnished with a desk and a chair, but Merlin hardly noticed. He moved quickly to the shelf, his eyes immediately scanning the dozens of tomes before him, reading over their old and faded titles on their cracking leather spines.

He knew he had to move quickly, and though he wanted to take each off the shelf in turn, he knew he could not. Arthur or Gwaine would notice he was gone soon enough. If they returned to look for him, Isaiah would discover an unwelcomed guest had let himself into his private library of sorts.

Merlin scanned the titles as quickly as he could, his eyes finally landing on one particular one which read, in faded gold lettering, "_Roderick's Bestiary: A Guide to Mythological and Legendary Creatures and Beasts, Containing and Categorizing the Creatures Which Dwell on Dry Land and Below the Sea"._A rather long title, Merlin had to admit, but it seemed like it was what he needed.

He quickly flipped it open and leafed through the different entries. He thought he may have glimpsed the word "Mermaids" somewhere amongst the titles, but couldn't take too much time to make sure. Deciding he'd check to see if he'd made a good choice when they returned to the inn, he shoved the dusty old book into the sack over his shoulder and exited the room, closing the door behind him.

**"Fýrbendum fæst,"** Merlin said, and the door's lock slid back into place with a satisfying click. Once he was certain that Isaiah wouldn't be able to tell that someone been in the room, Merlin put the light out in his hand and adjusted the bag over his shoulder. He exited the home, closing the door behind him, and looking to see where Arthur and company had gone. He was in luck: they were only a few yards away and he caught up with them quickly.

Arthur noticed Merlin's sudden arrival and glowered over his shoulder at the servant.

"Where have _you_ been?" he demanded. Merlin shrugged, trying to hide the bag from Arthur.

"I had to pee," he answered lightly. Arthur's glare deepened even more.

"Merlin, I honestly didn't need to know that," the king responded, then turned to pay attention to Isaiah, who was talking about the history of the village. With Arthur's attention turned away, Merlin slipped the bag to Matthew, who fixed the strap back over his shoulder discreetly. He nodded seriously to Merlin. They'd gotten what they needed.

"And now," Isaiah said, having finished his lecture. "It is too cold out here for an old man like myself. I apologize, Sire."

"No need," Arthur replied. "We should return to the inn anyways. We wouldn't want to impose."

"It was a delight hosting my king," Isaiah bowed and Arthur stepped forward. He took the old man's hand in his and shook it.

"Thank you for your hospitality," he said. Isaiah bowed once again and assured them it was an honor. After saying a brief farewell, the party, lead once more by Matthew, took leave of the old councilman's presence and made their way back down the cliff towards the bright, glowing lights of the inn far below.

Merlin cast one more glance towards the bag which Matthew now carried, now containing the book Merlin had snatched from Isaiah's collection. Maybe, finally, he could start to get some answers about what was going on around here.

Behind them, from the window of the old village leader's house, Isaiah watched the group walk back down the road towards the inn. A key dangled loosely from his hand.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, maybe old Isaiah knows a little more than he's letting on. But you'll have to keep tuning in to find out more about this! Have a safe weekend, and see you Monday!


	12. New Information

**Chapter 11- The Song**

Merlin didn't even stop to notice that Gwaine completely ignored his former orders and went straight to the bar after they returned to the tavern. Nor did he realize that Arthur, too, remained in the tavern, after they returned from Isaiah's home. His mind was on the fact that, buried inside the leather sack that Matthew had handed back to him once they had returned to the Seahorse Inn, was possibly the information he needed to figure out just what was going on around here.

The leather sack slung over his shoulder, Merlin hurried up the stairs to the upper rooms, careful that he wasn't caught by Urie who would want an in-depth report of what they had done that night with Isaiah. Merlin would leave that for Gwaine.

He headed straight for his bed, sat down on the edge and pulled out the book. In the light of the candle that sat on the table between the two beds, he could see the book's worn leather cover with greater clarity. It was old, maybe older even than some of Gaius', though Merlin found that hard to believe.

He opened it carefully, finding within worn, ragged and yellowing pages which he flipped with care. Like the books of magical creatures that Gaius kept, the pages were filled with hand-drawn depictions of beasts, animalistic and humanoid, benign and terrifying.

As the book's title suggested, the pages of this particular tome were filled with mythical sea creatures, most of which Merlin had never heard of, alongside images and descriptions of more familiar land-dwelling oddities. Amongst the pictures and titles, Merlin saw depictions and writings about many different creatures, including a huge, ship-eating squid called a Kraken, a wise salmon called Fintan, fish-horses called Hippocamps, and some sort of large sea monster called an Aspidochelone. These entries were mixed in along with creatures that Merlin had already come across: goblins, griffons, unicorns, bastets (the sight of the entry about bastards made his heart sting a little, and he passed over it quickly). And, as much as Merlin would have loved to spend time getting to know the other myriads of creatures the book had to offer, he only had time for one right now.

_Mermaids….mermaids…..where are they?_ He thought as he thumbed through the pages as quickly as he could, eyes scanning the titles of the entries and the accompanying pictures. For a time, he was almost afraid that he may have made a mistake and chosen the wrong book. How would he be able to swap it out for another one, if this didn't have the information he was looking for? And this may be his only chance to truly understand what the mermaids were and what they wanted with the people of this village.

Just when he began thinking his search may have been in vain, he found it. In large, ornate letters across the top of the page was the word _Mermaids_. Merlin's heart leaped in his chest and he instantly pulled the book closer so he could see the words better.

His eyes were first drawn to a grotesque depiction of what the creature reportedly looked like: half was a beautiful woman with long flowing hair, which framed a face whose large, almost innocent looking eyes belied the lips underneath, which were parted in a feral snarl to reveal rows of razor-sharp teeth. Merlin shuddered looking at it. The body of the woman faded at the torso to become the tail of a fish, its large, muscular tail and fin curled around it like a cat.

The picture having shaken him, Merlin moved on to the text which lined the page surrounding the image. As he read, he felt the blood drain away from his face.

The information described a creature that hungered desperately for human flesh. Once, they had thrived off the shores of most of the known world, feasting on foolish sailors and tradesmen. But they were hunted mercilessly, and the book described a slaughter that decimated most of the population. The remaining few disappeared, never to be seen again.

_I guess I know where they went…._ Merlin thought dryly.

He read on, and a shiver crept up his spine as the book detailed the unique way in which the mermaids hunted. They are powerful creatures, who use a song so beautiful that it traps the mind of almost any man who hears it, and lures him to the sea, where he, so enchanted by the song and completely bent to the mermaids' will, will present himself freely to be eaten. Many accounts tell of men rowing out into the sea and never returning, having been pulled into the waves by the mermaids whose calls they were following.

Merlin's mouth felt dry. The boats along the beach…..all those men had been lured into the sea by mermaids and devoured.

But the book was far from finished explaining the cruel trickery that the mermaids used to lure their prey into the water and to their doom.

"However," the books continued. "the mermaids' magic is powerful and almost limitless. When they want to, they can trick even the most stout-hearted of men into the water. Mermaids typically live in groups or _pods_, and will choose one of their own – typically the leader of the pod – to go ashore. The mermaid uses her magic to become a human female, absolutely perfect in appearance, and will use her feminine wiles, along with her irresistible song, to lure the man she has chosen as prey into the water."

Merlin's heart leaped in his chest and he read the section a second, then a third time to make sure he hadn't missed anything. But, no, to his dismay, he had not. His heart pounding against his ribs, he reread the last sentence one more time.

"The mermaid uses her magic to become a human female, absolutely perfect in appearance, and will use her feminine wiles, along with her irresistible song, to lure the man she has chosen as prey into the water."

The young warlock blanched, as pieces started falling together in his mind.

Arabell…the song in the marketplace….the fisherman he'd seen with Arabell named Erik….Arthur.

_Arthur!_

Merlin leaped to his feet, leaving the book open on the bed and rushed out of the room. He grabbed the banister of the stair case to keep from toppling over as he practically tripped over his feet in a mad attempt to get to the tavern that was still hopping below. Fisherman, in from a day on the water, were jammed together, laughing and arguing and nursing huge tankards of ale and mead. None even spared Merlin a glance as the black-haired boy just about fell down the length of the stairs.

Panting, Merlin's eyes desperately searched the crowded tavern for the blond king. Finally, they picked him out, sitting in the far corner in a shadowy part of the room. To Merlin's dismay and horror, Arabell was sitting by his side, leaning close and whispering to the young ruler.

Merlin leaped forward, pushing between bodies in a desperate attempt to get to Arthur's table. Some men elbowed him back with gruff warning to "mind his place" and "watch where he was going". Merlin ignored them and pressed on until he had finally cleared the last of the men. He ran towards Arthur's table, heart pounding.

"Arthur," he said, panting. The young king slowly raised ice blue eyes and glared steadily at his servant, as if a cockroach had just crawled onto his table.

"_Merlin_," he said icily, in a way he'd never addressed the warlock before. "_What_ do _you_ want?"

"Arthur, you have to listen to me," Merlin said, casting a glance towards Arabell. She glared at him, dark eyes flashing in annoyance. "You're in danger."

"Don't be an idiot," Arthur snapped back. "Don't you have something better to do?"

"Arthur, please!" Merlin begged. He jabbed a finger at the woman sitting beside him, her arm twisted around Arthur's, a look of pure hunger in her eyes. "She's a mermaid!"

Merlin said it a little louder than he had meant to, and the men nearest them stopped their chatter and stared. Merlin tried his best to ignore them, continued staring at Arthur with pleading eyes.

Arthur's glare became even icier.

"_What?_" he demanded, voice low and cold. Merlin swallowed hard.

"You have to believe me," Merlin pleaded. "She's a _mermaid_, and she's been luring you to the sea ever since she saw you! _She's_ the reason the fishermen of gone missing! Her...her _pod_ attacks them and eats them! She's trying to lure you to the sea, too!"

"Merlin," Arthur said, but the servant continued.

"Arthur, she wants to kill you! They sing, Arthur! They lure their prey into the water – "

"_Merlin."_

"And they eat them! Just like Gwaine said! She's a _man eater_ Arthur! And you can't see it because you're under her spell-"

Merlin thought for sure he heard the briefest chirrup of a song, and Arthur suddenly snapped as quickly as a snake striking. Merlin wasn't even prepared for it. Arthur leaped to his feet and grabbed his servant by his leather jacket and just about slammed him into a nearby wall. This wasn't like Arthur at all.

Arthur looked as though he was about ready to yell something at the warlock, but momentarily glanced over his shoulder to see that half the tavern was watching the dispute between master and servant. Merlin tried to pull away, but Arthur roughly shoved him towards the door to the outside.

"Out," he demanded, pushing the younger man in front of him. Merlin didn't have a choice. With Arthur behind him, he couldn't get away. And he didn't much want to, either. He _had_ to make Arthur see that he was putting himself in danger, that this "Arabell" was going to lure him into the sea like she had every other fisherman. And there was _no way_ Merlin was going to let that happen.

Arthur yanked the door open and thrust Merlin outside into the fog. The clammy air pressed against the skinny servant's cheeks, and before he knew it, Arthur was pushing him up against the wall of the tavern. The sign creaked above their heads, swinging back in forth in the sea breeze.

"Arthur, you have to listen to me," Merlin tried again, but Arthur was having none of it.

"_Shut up!"_ he yelled into his servant's face with such force that Merlin had to resist cringing. Merlin wasn't afraid of Arthur. What he was afraid of was this strange change in behavior. And the fact that if he couldn't get Arthur to see what he was doing, then the young king might get himself killed.

"How _dare_ you?" Arthur demanded. "How _dare_ you insult Arabell like that? What _right_ do you have?"

"I'm trying to protect you!" Merlin yelled back, his own anger rising inside him. Why couldn't Arthur see? "She's _dangerous_ Arthur! She's going to get you killed!"

Arthur faltered, and Merlin allowed himself to hope, just for a moment, that maybe something he'd said had gotten through. Merlin's cerulean eyes met Arthur's burning ice blue ones, and the warlock thought for sure that he saw just a little bit of Arthur in there, still clinging on. For a moment, Arthur's grip on him slackened.

"You have to believe me," the servant begged. "She's going to kill you."

For a moment, Merlin thought for certain that Arthur was beginning to come out of it. He _willed_ Arthur to overcome the spell, to shake off the effects of the mermaid's song.

But, suddenly, the blonde shook his head, and when he looked back at Merlin, his eyes were flashing with rage again.

"You have _no right_ to speak about her like that!" Arthur yelled, his face reddening in rage. "You are nothing but a _servant_! You are _nothing_, Merlin! _Nothing!_"

The blonde suddenly yanked Merlin forward then slammed him back against the wall. Merlin's head snapped back, smacking the wood and stone with a painful "thud". He winced.

"Arthur, please," he begged, but the king was having none of it.

"Shut, up, Merlin, or I swear, I will _make_ you," he spat. "You will _never_ speak to me like that again. Do you understand?"

"Arthur – "

"_Do you understand?"_

Merlin didn't respond, but glared icily at Arthur. He opened his mouth to argue once more, but Arthur didn't give him a chance. He released the servant and turned on his heel. Somehow, from within the tavern, Arabell had emerged without Merlin noticing. She cast a dark smirk at Merlin before linking her arm with Arthur as he stepped towards her.

No. Merlin wasn't going to watch her take Arthur away. It was his destiny to protect the king, and some harsh words from Arthur and a glare from a sea woman weren't going to stop him.

Merlin started after them, reached out to grab Arthur's shoulder, hoping that he could get Arthur to see what was happening. He'd been so close!

Suddenly, the king spun and grabbed the servant once more by his jacket, his eyes flashing with rage. Merlin blinked when he saw a mixture of fear and confusion briefly replace the anger, as if Arthur wasn't entirely sure what he was doing. Once more he faltered. This was Merlin's chance. Maybe his last one.

"Please, listen to me," Merlin begged, trying to find Arthur somewhere in there again, trying to snap him out of the mermaid's influence. But once more Merlin thought he heard another snatch of song, and the warlock glanced over Arthur's shoulder to see Arabell glaring fiercely at him with a mix of pride and outrage in her dark eyes. Merlin realized with a stab of fear that the moment was gone: Arthur was completely under the sea woman's power.

"I warned you," Arthur growled, and when Merlin looked again, he saw that the confusion and fear in the king's eyes were gone.

Merlin had never, ever, in all his days, imagined that Arthur would ever hit him. Sure, once in a while Arthur slapped him, but it was never in aggression and never hard. So Merlin never even thought to duck.

Arthur's fist came fast and hard into the servant's face. The last thing he saw was Arabell dragging Arthur into the fog.

And then there was nothing.

* * *

**A/N:** Interesting note, all the mythical sea creatures mentioned in the chapter including Fintan and the others, are actual reported mythical sea creatures from ancient times. I suggest you look them up, some are very interesting. Happy Monday, everyone, and I hope you enjoy the rest of your week. Come back Friday for another chapter!


	13. Into the Sea

**A/N:** It was pointed out to me Monday by Solar07 that in the previous chapter, amongst the list of sea creatures and magical creatures, was included the term "bastards". Originally, this was included for the fact that this faulty writer thought that Freya, from season 2, was a type of creature called a "bastard". I was corrected that Freya was, in fact, a "bastet". Corrections have been made to the previous chapter, and I am sorry for the inconvenience that my error caused. And thank you, Solar07, for the correction.

*Edited: I also realized after posting this chapter that I forgot to insert the section breaks. Now inserted.

* * *

**Chapter 12- Into the Sea**

"Merlin!"

Merlin groaned as someone called his name. His head hurt fiercely, but it seemed like most of the pain was connected somehow with his face. He wasn't entirely sure what had happened, but he wondered if he'd fallen down the stairs again while bringing something to Arthur's chambers.

"_Merlin!"_

The voice was more insistent this time, and Merlin decided that he should probably open his eyes and see just what whoever wanted so terribly. Carefully, mindful of his throbbing skull, his eyelids parted slightly and he looked blearily upwards into an old, weathered face. Matthew was leaning over him, anxious eyes looking down at him.

For a moment, Merlin wasn't entirely sure why Matthew was looking over him, and he also couldn't understand why it was so dark if he was in Camelot castle. And then he realized.

Recalling the fight to get Arthur to realize he'd been seduced by a mermaid and then having his lights punched out by the same blonde was not a pleasant experience. But after they returned in a great wave to Merlin's bleary mind, the warlock sat bolt-upright, just missing connecting the top of his head with Matthew's jaw. The old fisherman pulled back and grabbed the downed servant by his arm to steady him. Merlin grunted as he head swam. Sitting up that quickly had not been the best idea.

"Where's Arthur?" Merlin demanded, still slightly fuzzy. "Where'd he go?"

"The King?" Matthew asked, forehead creasing slightly. "I saw him come out here with you. What happened?"

Merlin grabbed Matthew's arm, his heart suddenly leaping in his chest.

"Arthur didn't go back into the tavern?" the warlock demanded. Matthew shook his head. His old, tired eyes were deeply concerned and confused.

"No…" he started, but was cut off as Merlin leaped to his feet, the practically fell over, prompting the old fisherman to catch the boy and hold him steady to make sure he could stand by himself.

"Merlin, what happened?" Matthew demanded. "Where is the king?"

"There's no time," Merlin replied, once his head had stopped spinning enough so that he could see where he was going. He felt something wet on his mouth and wiped at it with the back of his hand. It came away with his own blood, where the lip had split, but he barely paid it heed. "Arthur's in danger."

"Do you want me to get the knight and the guards?" Matthew asked, managing to catch the servant's sleeve before he ran off. Merlin's heart was pounding in his chest. The more time he wasted here, the greater chance there was of Arthur being eaten by the mermaids.

"No, I'll be fine," Merlin said hurriedly and was about ready to run when Matthew grabbed his shoulder.

"Merlin!" the old man said.

"What?" Merlin demanded, getting annoyed. The fisherman forcefully turned the servant boy in a different direction.

"The docks are _that_ way."

"I knew that."

* * *

Merlin ran through the streets of Halen, his boots pounding on the cobblestones. The fog had settled in a thin layer of moisture over everything, and he had to stop himself several times from almost slipping as his boots struggled to keep traction on the wet streets.

He couldn't believe he'd allowed Arthur to get away so easily. If he'd only _thought_, he would have known that he'd need to protect himself. After all, if Arthur was under the mermaid's spell, he'd do whatever he had to get down to the sea. He should have paid more attention earlier anyways. He shouldn't have let Arabell get so close to Arthur. He had felt that something was wrong with her. But he'd ignored his instincts, and now Arthur was going to pay the price.

_No_, he thought determinedly as the docks began to near. _He's not going to die. Not tonight._

He didn't stop running until he reached the wood of the port, which was just as slick as the cobblestone streets. He slid to an ungraceful stop and looked around.

No one was there.

Of course no one was there. Had he expected that Arabell (if that really _was_ her name) was just going to wait around the docks with Arthur until he got there?

Merlin gritted his teeth, as a sudden wave of hopelessness washed over him. He had no idea how long he'd been out for. A few minutes? Longer? However he looked at it, it was long enough for the mermaid to get Arthur into the water.

He hadn't failed, had he? Had it really been that simple? Had Arthur slipped through his fingers that quickly? After all they'd been through together, he was gone. What would Merlin be able to do now? Row out into the middle of the ocean on a boat he didn't know how to steer, only to be devoured as well by these ruthless sea predators? What good would that do?

Was Arthur truly gone?

The words felt empty in his mind. He couldn't really grasp it. After all they'd been through, after all the Great Dragon had always said about Merlin being Arthur's protector….was it over?

Had he failed?

He couldn't have….could he?

He stared out at the foggy sky that hung over the water. He didn't know what to think. With all his powers, all his victories saving Arthur from certain death, and yet it had all been ended by something so simple: a punch that had knocked him out. And that punch had allowed a sea woman to take Arthur away and kill him. It didn't even seem possible. He didn't know what to think. He didn't know what to say.

So someone spoke for him.

"Are you just going to stand there all night?"

Merlin's heart leaped in his chest and he spun on his heel. Behind him, though it didn't seem possible, stood Arabell. She looked the same as ever, long, dark hair billowing around her in the gentle night breeze, her hungry eyes boring into his own. Somehow, she'd snuck up behind him.

Merlin blinked, unsure of what to say.

"Are you mute?" she demanded, though her eyes twinkled playfully. "You didn't seem that way in the Seahorse."

"You….what are you doing?" Merlin demanded, finding his words again. He started forward, but she raised a finger and shook it pointedly.

"Ah-ah-ah," she warned. "You want your king. Take one more step and I won't tell you where he is."

Merlin froze in his steps and glared at her, his fists clenching. His cerulean eyes blazed coldly in the night light. He thought about fighting her with magic, but if she didn't know he was a warlock, it would be best to keep it that way until he had to use it. If he hurt her, she may refuse to tell him where Arthur was. If he killed her…..Arthur would be gone forever.

If he wasn't already.

"Where is he?" Merlin growled, voice a warning. But the mermaid didn't even look concerned. Instead, she flashed him a wide, shining smile.

"Come and find him," she taunted, and before Merlin could react she sprung forward, nimbly running across the dock, and launched herself into the water. Merlin ran after her, but by the time he reached the edge of the wood planks she was gone beneath the dark waves.

The young warlock's heart leaped in his throat as he realized what the mermaid was doing. In a different way, she was luring him to the sea. She wanted two for the price of one.

But if he _didn't_ follow her, he'd lose Arthur for certain. He _had_ to follow. He had to protect Arthur.

He had to try.

Without giving it another moment of thought, he ran to one of the boats moored at the dock and jumped in. Ironically, the one he chose was one that had been attacked already, but still intact enough to float. He struggled with the heavy rope that tied the vessel to the dock, and eventually gave up.

"**Áráfian," **he commanded, and the rope immediately unraveled, freeing the boat. Once it was untied, Merlin fixed his eyes on the sea before him.

**"Gesegle," **he spoke. He pressed down on his magic and moved the boat away from the docks and swiftly through the water, swifter than it would have if just being pushed forward by wind. The initial rocking of such a large vessel threw him off that first, but he stumbled to the prow of the boat and looked over the side into the water, searching for the mermaid beneath the waves.

"Where are you?" he called, desperate to be heard over the wind whipping in his ears and at the tattered sails of the boat.

"Right here," a mocking voice called. With a flash of Merlin's eyes, the boat stopped and Merlin searched the dark water.

"Where?" he called again.

"I said," the voice came again. "Right here."

From the depths of the dark waves erupted a figure, which grabbed at the edge of the fishing boat. Merlin reeled back, but more were coming: slim, pale hands with surprising strength attacking him from all sides. The warlock desperately attempted to get away, but one managed to grab the collar of his shirt. He choked and tried to twist out of the grip, but another hand grabbed his arm, and the boat suddenly began to tilt to the side. Merlin struggled wildly, as images of a dozen or so hands began converging on him, grabbing onto his clothing, his arms, and his legs. He gave one last struggle, but the boat suddenly capsized and before the young warlock knew, he was being thrown into the water.

The cold hit him like a fist, and he gasped, but only succeeded in breathing in water. He coughed as he tried to catch one last breath of air before he was completely pulled under. He looked up to see the boat, smashed in on one side now, beginning to drift away to shore. Just like the others.

Merlin twisted in the grip of dozens of hands, as fish tails splashed around him. He kicked out, but between the cold of the water, his clothes weighing him down, and the unrelenting hands, there was no use.

With a thrill of panic, the warlock was pulled down into the depths of the sea.

* * *

Matthew was shaken. Merlin had run off into the night after the king, and the old fisherman didn't entirely know what had happened. He'd seen the king push his servant out into the night, but only when the two had not returned to the inn, but had been followed out by the girl with the beautiful dark hair had Matthew grown worried. When he'd finally extricated himself from a heated conversation amidst some other fishermen about why Arthur was there, Matthew took the chance to see just what had happened and why Arthur and Merlin had gone outside.

What he found had been shocking. Arthur and the girl were nowhere to be found, but Merlin had been lying, unconscious, on the ground, a bruise coloring his cheekbone and a split lip. And then the servant had said something about Arthur being in danger and had run off. Matthew had an uneasy feeling about this, and felt as though he needed to do something.

But what?

After all, he was just an old man. He'd seen action once upon the sea, fighting the waves and the wind and the storms, but that was in his past now. What could he do?

He recalled the book Merlin had smuggled out of Isaiah's house. He assumed that the young servant had read it; maybe Matthew could find something in there that might be useful in case he needed to help. Merlin had said that he didn't need help, but Matthew couldn't just sit around and do _nothing. _He'd done that for too long, and he was _not _going to do it anymore. This was his village, and he'd be damned if he was going to let ancient men like Isaiah tell him how he could and could not save it.

Matthew didn't even stop to talk to Urie when she called out to him. He marched up the stairs and found the room where the servant stayed. He was cowed at first: after all, Merlin was staying in the same room with the king. Could he get sentenced for thievery if he was found in the king's room without permission? What would they do to him? Hang him? Chop his hand off?

Neither option sounded too pleasant to Matthew, but the old fisherman also knew that at the moment he couldn't back down like a dog with its tail between its legs. He wasn't going to crawl away just because he wasn't sure if he'd get in trouble for something.

He took a breath and pushed the partially-closed door open the rest of the way and entered the room.

Matthew fortunately didn't have to look far for the stolen book. It was sitting, open, on the bed near the window on the far side of the room. The old fisherman made his way quickly over to it and picked it up, scanning its pages.

Merlin had left the book open on the article about mermaids. Matthew wasn't a great reader, but read he could and was able to wade through most of the text. Some parts were difficult for him to understand, but as he scanned the information he was able to deduce that the mermaids that had been rumored to live off the coast of Halen were very real and very nasty.

"What are you doing?"

The voice practically made the old man jump out of his skin, and he spun, book still held in his arms, towards the door from where the voice had come.

The knight that had not gone to Mercier stood in the doorway. Matthew recalled his name to be Gwaine. The bearded man stood, studying the old fisherman who was standing in the king's room with a mix between suspicion and curiosity.

For a moment, Matthew wasn't entirely sure what to say. Was there anything he _could_ say that wouldn't immediately incriminate him as a thief, going through the king's possessions? But what else could he do? Surely this knight wouldn't believe a simple old fisherman that his king was in trouble possibly from mermaids.

"What's that?" the knight asked, pointing towards the book in the fisherman's arms. Matthew looked down at the book, as if only just remembering he still was holding it.

"I'm sorry, Sir Gwaine – " the fisherman stuttered as the knight came closer and took the book from him, then turned it so he could read the text. "I didn't mean to break into His Majesty's room, but his servant believes that the king is in great danger and – "

"Merlin?" the mention of the boy made the knight's eyes immediately return to the fisherman. "Merlin thinks Arthur's in danger? Where are they?"

"Merlin went after Arthur, who disappeared somehow. I don't know where he is – "

"But what does he think is putting Arthur _in_ danger?" Gwaine pressed, the book still in his hands. Matthew swallowed hard. Would such a noble knight such as Sir Gwaine honestly believe that mermaids were the reason that so many in the village had gone missing, and that mermaids were putting the king in danger now?

Matthew pressed his lips together, unsure of what to say. He didn't want to look like a fool before the knight. That was the last thing he wanted.

But Merlin _did_ need his help, even if the boy had said he didn't. There was no way he could stop these creatures alone.

"Matthew," Gwaine said, slowly. "What does Merlin think is killing the fishermen?"

Matthew took a deep breath.

"He thinks – and I do, too – that mermaids have been taking them," Matthew finally found the courage to say. "And he thinks one took Arthur."

"Are you sure?" Gwaine wanted to know. Matthew was slightly wrong-footed. He had expected the knight to laugh uproariously at him and call him an idiot and a liar. He wasn't sure if Gwaine believed him, but he hadn't laughed. Was that good or bad?

Matthew nodded, seriously.

"Merlin took this book from Isaiah's house tonight," Matthew said. "Under my direction. I believe maybe it will have information we need. I'm not sure, but I think that Merlin may have believed that girl – Arabell, I think was her name – has something to do with the disappearances."

"Why does he think that?" Gwaine asked. Still, no laughing. Matthew honestly couldn't tell if the knight was believing this or not. The old fisherman prayed to any deity listening that he would believe. It would make things a lot easier.

"Arabell was seen with the last fisherman to disappear, right before he did so," Matthew told him. The knight's eyes suddenly flashed.

"Where did Merlin go? Which way?" he demanded. Matthew blanched slightly at the force of the knight's tone.

"Down to the docks," he said. Immediately, the knight turned and marched from the room towards the stairs. Matthew, still holding the book, followed quickly after.

"We have to help them," Gwaine said, his hand moving to the sword that hung from his belt. The knight wasn't in armor, but Matthew had the feeling that this man rarely went anywhere without being armed somehow.

"Wait!" the fisherman said, catching the knight by the sleeve of his shirt. "We don't know where the mermaids are hiding. We could spend all night looking all over the beach for them, and going out onto the water could be deadly."

"We don't have time to waste," Gwaine reminded him, obviously impatient. But Matthew needed to be the voice of reason. This young man was ready to do anything for his king and his friend, but Matthew knew that if they didn't go about this the right way, they'd waste even more time. They _needed_ information. And he knew that there may be only one way to get it.

He didn't like the idea, though.

"I know," the old fisherman consoled the younger man, though trying not to sound patronizing. He realized it was probably not the best idea to sound patronizing to a man who could kill him at least thirty different ways. "But there may be someone who can give us information that we need to help your king and your friend."

"Who?" the knight demanded.

"Isaiah, the man whom we ate with tonight," Matthew said. "He may know more than what he's been letting on about the mermaids."

As soon as he gave the suggestion, though, Matthew's face became troubled.

"I only hope he will give us the answers we seek," he said darkly. But Gwaine's eyes hardened at the words.

"He will," the knight said and started off down the stairs into the tavern. Matthew followed quickly, and had the definite impression that the knight meant every word he said.

* * *

**A/N:** So the action has now officially begun, and I'm looking forward to seeing your reactions to the next chapter! See you Monday, my friends!


	14. Discoveries

**A/N:** I got a little over-excited when I posted last week's chapter and realized that I hadn't put in any of the section breaks to identify where one character's point of view ended and another's began. I'm sorry about this, and it was fixed, but if you read it before it was fixed and it didn't make sense to you, I suggest you go back and take a look.

I also want to give a shout out to my friend and new follower, Madeleine KHill, whose name I probably misspelled, and I'm sorry. She probably won't see this for some time, but I just wanted to say hi and I love you and I'll see you soon!

* * *

**Chapter 13- Discoveries**

Merlin's eyes snapped open and he found himself staring up at the ceiling of some sort of cave. He was soaked and cold, and it didn't help that the stalactites hanging above him were dripping a constant stream of water onto his forehead.

"Have a nice swim?" an eerie voice called to him. It echoed off the cave walls, making the mermaid's sing-song voice even more terrifying. Merlin sat up, eyes searching the cave for a glimpse of the dark-haired woman who had lured Arthur to the sea.

As he had expected, she sat before him, reclining calmly on a boulder slick with moisture. The dress she'd been wearing was damp, but she looked more as if she had just walked here through a light rain. Even her hair looked dry. However, she still appeared completely human, which confused the warlock slightly.

"Where's Arthur?" he demanded, eyes hard. The mermaid smirked.

"Straight to the point. I like it."

She slowly stood and strode over to him, her strides long and graceful. Merlin attempted to stand and back away, but his boots slid on the slick stone ground and he only managed to move back a few inches. She reached him quickly enough and grabbed the servant boy by the edges of his jacket. Merlin's magic automatically responded, but he forced it back, refusing to allow it to protect him. He couldn't let her know that he was a warlock.

Suddenly, she smiled, flashing perfect white teeth. This close to her, Merlin suddenly realized how razor-sharp those teeth were.

"You're stupid, but brave," she said, her voice a purr. "An interesting combination."

She released him and then stepped back. Merlin took the opportunity to scramble to his feet and take a better look around.

The cave was lit by an eerie blue-green glow. Merlin risked a quick glance over his shoulder to see just how far back it went. By the looks of it, it went pretty far. He turned back to see Arabell sauntering away from him, towards a pool of water in the center of the stony chamber. Merlin took a hesitant step forward.

"Where am I?" he asked, voice echoing off the rock walls. Arabell stopped and turned slightly to look at him. Her eyes flashed dangerously and she smirked.

"My home," she told him bluntly. "You're welcome to it."

"Where's Arthur?" he demanded again. She tutted softly.

"So _rude_," she told him, shaking her head. "A guest in one's home really ought to _properly_ be introduced to one's family, shouldn't he?"

"I want to know where my friend is," Merlin demanded.

"And you will!" she replied. "But I am sure that someone such as you will want to witness the rising of a species that has not been seen in hundreds of years. Isn't that right?"

Merlin honestly wasn't sure he _did_, but Arabell wasn't going to give him the option. She stepped into the water, and opened her mouth. Merlin had expected her to maybe call names, but instead the cold, still air in the cave was filled with the eerie sound of music. Merlin recognized it: the high, fluctuating sound that he'd heard in the village and right before Arthur had hit him and knocked him out. His magic stirred inside him, warning him of it. He narrowed his eyes and watched the woman before him warily.

She shot a glance back over her shoulder, and then held a hand out towards him, beckoning him. Merlin hung back.

"Come," she said, her voice low and eerily calm. "And meet my sisters."

Merlin's eyes went to the water, which suddenly began to churn and ripple, as if it was boiling. The warlock stepped forward, wary, but he couldn't resist the curiosity that churned inside him. Arabell had been right. He did want to see the creatures.

The first few emerged from the water, and Merlin had to force himself not to take an involuntary step backwards.

The creatures were strikingly similar to the ones that had appeared in the Bestiary. Their eyes were almost animalistic, containing a primal hunger that chilled the warlock to the bone. Their skin was perfectly smooth, but differed from creature to creature. Some were tinted soft green. Another almost pure white. Another was a very faint blue. Their hair was tangled and matted, ranging in colors from raven black like Arabell's to a flat silver. One even had pure white hair, though Merlin couldn't tell If the lack of color had anything to do with age. None of them appeared old, though he knew they all had most likely seen centuries pass by.

One opened her mouth when she surfaced, and Merlin was given the privilege of seeing rows of sharp, jagged teeth, stained with old blood. Their hands were all tipped with black, knife-sharp nails. One or two came up close enough to the edge of the pool to pull themselves halfway up onto the cave floor, and Merlin caught brief glimpses of their scaled tales. He couldn't tell if any of them were the one he had seen pull Gwaine under, though.

However, Merlin's contemplation over their appearance was suddenly, startlingly halted when two last creatures emerged from the water, carrying something between them. With a burst of strength that contradicted their looks, they tossed their burden up so it was lying halfway out of the water and halfway on the cold, damp floor of the cave.

Merlin's eyes grew wide with horror. The mermaids had deposited Arthur only feet in front of him. The blonde didn't move and his eyes were closed as he laid face-down on the ground.

"Arthur!" Merlin gasped and started forward, but he was stopped in his tracks by a powerful magical force that slammed into his chest. He landed heavily on his back and scrambled back to his feet. His eyes narrowed as he saw Arabell lower her arm and step forward to stand between him and the king. He had forgotten that these creatures could wield magic.

"Fool!" she snapped, then barked a laugh. "Did you really think it would be that simple?

"I'm warning you," Merlin said as threateningly as he could whilst standing before an audience of powerful sea women who had a longing for blood. "Let him go."

"Don't be ridiculous," Arabell scoffed, flicking her dark hair over her shoulder. "I'm not _near_ finished with you two."

Merlin scowled at her.

"What do you want from me?" he demanded. He was beginning to realize that there might be a greater reason for him capture than the fact that these mermaids wanted two meals for the price of one. After all, why would Arabell have waited for him? Why go through all the trouble to lure Arthur down to lure him down too? There must be a reason…

But Arabell obviously wasn't going to answer his question quite yet.

"These are my sisters," the woman cooed, turning from Merlin and gesturing to the group of creatures behind her. There were six altogether, including her. Merlin could have sworn there'd been more when he'd been pulled under. It had _felt_ like there had been more.

"Is this all?" Merlin asked, his fear and disgust momentarily replaced by interest. "Only six?"

"Only six," Arabell spat back, as if the words were foul. "Only six left."

She spun on him, her eyes dangerously wild.

"Once upon a time our species thrived. We lived in the oceans of the world, feasting and singing, enjoying life. But your kind hunted us to the brink of extinction. Stupid humans, believing themselves to be _so strong_. _So_ mighty. But you are fools. Hundreds of thousands of my kind were slaughtered. We fled and hid. We are what is left."

Merlin looked down at the mermaids before him, dangerous yet beautiful, staring back at him with primal hatred in their eyes. He recalled reading about the slaughter of the mermaids, the hunt across seas to try and rid the world of their kind. And for a moment, he also felt sorry for them.

But then he remembered Arthur, lying on the ground before him, and the fact that Arabell refused to tell him why she wanted him so badly.

"Why did you bring me here?" Merlin demanded, eyes hardening again, looking away from the last of the mermaids. He glared at Arabell, locking gazes with her as she turned to look at him again.

"What do you want Arthur and me for?" he said.

Arabell remained silent and once more turned her back on him. Merlin knew a well-aimed blow from his magic would send her toppling and maybe give him enough time to grab Arthur and escape (though on second thought that may have been a little optimistic). But he knew he had to refrain from using his power. As far as he knew, these mermaids didn't know what he was. He wanted to keep it that way.

Merlin watched with intense eyes as the human-mermaid crouched down and stroked Arthur's hair with her fingers. She smiled gently, then looked over her shoulder at Merlin.

"The young king is only a formality," she said softly. "It is you I need."

Merlin's eyes narrowed.

"For what?" he repeated.

Arabell looked over at her sisters in the water, and Merlin followed her gaze. He didn't like the excited glint that suddenly had appeared in the eyes of the bloodthirsty sea creatures.

Without looking at him, Arabell gave Merlin his answer.

"You will bring my species back from the dead."

* * *

Gwaine stalked up the path towards the old head councilor's house that sat atop the cliff, looking down on the rest of the village. Matthew struggled to keep up with him, but the knight's steps were quick and determined. Matthew thanked his lucky stars that it was not he who had done wrong to Arthur and Merlin. It was clear that this knight would stop at nothing to protect his friends.

They reached the end of the road where the man's home sat, and Gwaine walked quickly to the door and pounded on it, so hard that the echoes bounced off the jagged rocks and Matthew worried that the whole town would be awoken by the sound.

There was no answer, and Matthew noticed the lights in the home were dark.

"Isaiah may be asleep," he considered. Gwaine glowered at the door.

"He won't be for long," the knight muttered and pounded on it again.

"Isaiah! Open the door in the name of the king!"

Once more, there was no answer and the house remained dark and silent.

"Right," Gwaine said with a nod and stepped back.

"What are you going to – " Matthew started, but before he could finish, Gwaine swung a kick, slamming his foot into the solid wood door. It cracked and sprang open, almost falling off its hinges. Matthew cringed at the sound and stared despondently at the broken door. He might have thought Isaiah an old fool, but the man was the head of the council, and Matthew felt as though he was betraying his village by breaking into the man's home.

"Come on, mate," Gwaine said, clapping the old fisherman on the shoulder, obviously proud of his work on the door. He led the way in and Matthew took one last nervous look around before following the knight into the dark interior.

"Isaiah!" Gwaine called into the darkness of the house. Matthew frowned as he glanced around. No one seemed to be here. Even the fireplace was dark. Where could a man like Isaiah have gone at this hour of the night?

"I'll look down here," Gwaine said, nodding towards one hallway. He nodded to the second one and said, "You look down there."

Matthew nodded and watched as Gwaine moved towards the left wing of hallways, his form receding into the shadows. The old fisherman swallowed and moved towards the right, towards the first door.

He pressed a hand against it, and it swung open without any problems. Carefully, Matthew looked inside.

Within, shrouded in darkness but just light enough from the weak moonlight so he could see, was what seemed to be a small library of sorts. A desk was against one wall, and the other was adorned by a bookshelf with a collection of varying texts. Matthew figured this must have been where Merlin found his book. But as he glanced around, he didn't see anyone within.

"Isaiah?" he said softly, but there was no answer. Deciding this room was empty, Matthew backed carefully out of it, closing the door behind him. Only one more door remained in this hallway, and the old fisherman moved towards it as quietly as he could. He didn't know _why _he felt the need to be so silent, but he had some innate fear that Isaiah would suddenly pop up out of nowhere and demand the reason for this intrusion. Matthew hated to admit it, but he was almost scared of the old man.

He pressed his hand against the second door, but this one didn't open as easily as the last. He tried the handle, but it was locked.

"Sir Gwaine!" he called over his shoulder. The knight appeared a few moments later and started down the hallway towards him,

"What?" he asked as he neared the fisherman. Matthew nodded towards the door.

"It's locked," he said. Gwaine nodded and stepped back. Matthew cringed, waiting for another kick.

He was not disappointed, and Gwaine launched his foot with full force into the wooden door. The flimsy lock that had held it closed broke through the wood door jam and the door swung easily open.

The first thing that struck them was a heavy, gut-turning smell of decay, which hit Matthew like a fist to his stomach. He grimaced, and hung back while Gwaine entered. Moonlight played over two figures in the middle of the room, but it was too dark to see any detail.

"What are they?" Matthew wondered, guessing that they were just animals that had gotten in and died. But….those were _big_ animals.

"I don't know," Gwaine said grimly, looking down at them. "Here."

He made his way carefully to a candle which was sitting on a table near the wall. He knight fumbled in his pocket and brought out a pair of flint pieces, which he used to light the wick. As the weak but warm candlelight illuminated the room, the pair of figures were bathed in it glow and Matthew and Gwaine could see them for what they were.

Matthew blanched.

On the floor, lying face down before them, were two guards of Camelot.

* * *

**A/N:** And now you know where the Camelot guards have been for so long. On review, I probably didn't have to kill them, but I really wasn't interested in developing them as characters, and they're knights of Camelot. They're expendable. It's like when you watch an original Star Trek episode, and all the main characters beam down to the surface of the planet, but there's that one guy whose name is mentioned but you've never seen him before, and he's more often than not wearing a red shirt, and you're like, "Well, you're going to die." And five seconds later, he does.

Anyways, happy Monday, everyone!


	15. Darkness and Secrets

**Chapter 14- Darkness and Secrets**

Matthew's throat felt dry as he looked down at the two bodies of the Camelot guards. They were still and quiet, their bodies stiff and pale. Matthew may have faced many a danger on the sea, but the sight of dead humans was one that the fisherman had trouble stomaching.

Gwaine knelt down and studied the two men, looking grim.

"I had wondered what had happened to these two," the knight said solemnly. To Matthew's horror, the bearded knight reached forward and turned the body of the closest over onto his back. Matthew cringed at the man's dead, blank eyes staring unseeingly at the ceiling.

"No signs of a struggle," Gwaine noted, examining the man before him.

"How…how did they die?" Matthew stuttered. He cleared his throat, trying to get a hold of himself. He didn't want the knight to think him a coward. He wanted to help his village, and he couldn't be put off by things like this.

"I'm not sure," the knight replied darkly. "Poison maybe? But however it happened, I think your friend Isaiah is caught up in things a little more than we had thought."

Matthew scoffed.

"He's not my friend," he replied tersely.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

The voice made both Gwaine and Matthew jump, the former leaping to his feet and spinning around, hand on his sword. Matthew turned as well and his eyes grew wide as he found Isaiah standing calmly in the doorway behind them.

"May I ask, Brother Matthew, Sir Gwaine, why you are in my house?" the old man asked.

Gwaine was the first to answer.

"May _I_ ask," the knight replied, voice sharp. "Why there are two dead Camelot guards in your house?"

"The matter does not concern you," Isaiah replied calmly, as if Gwaine had simply inquired about why his furniture was arranged a certain way.

"It damn well concerns me!" Gwaine snapped. "These were Camelot men! And they're _dead_. In _your_ house! I think that concerns me!"

"They were too close," Isaiah answered simply. Then he very calmly turned and walked back into the main area of the house. Gwaine threw an angered look at Matthew, and the fisherman could tell that the knight was barely holding himself together. Before Matthew could say anything, Gwaine was stalking after the man, his hand on his sword.

"Too close to _what?_" the knight asked, eyes flashing. Isaiah did not answer him as he entered the main room. He gestured to two chairs at the long table where they had eaten earlier.

"I'm sorry, Sir Gwaine, did you say something?" he asked. Gwaine opened his mouth to reply, but Isaiah cut him off.

"Since you are in my home already, please sit down," he said. "Perhaps you would like something to drink? I believe I have a little ale left from tonight's dinner."

Matthew sat cautiously, but Gwaine seemed hesitant to sit, standing to the side with his hand still on his sword. Isaiah turned his back on his unwelcome guests as he lifted a jug from where it sat on the table. He poured a measured amount into two cups and handed them to Matthew and Gwaine.

"Why are there two dead Camelot guards in your back room?" Gwaine reiterated. Isaiah turned ancient dim eyes to the knight and smiled.

"I imagine you two have come here for information, have you not?" he asked, still avoiding Gwaine's question. "Please, Sir Gwaine, sit down. I'd hate for you to be uncomfortable."

"I'm fine," the knight answered. Matthew had lifted his cup to his lips, but before he could drink Gwaine surreptitiously grabbed Matthew's arm and pushed it down, causing the fisherman to lower the cup. Matthew looked questioningly at him.

"Your friend was looking for information earlier, too," Isaiah said, apparently not having noticed Gwaine's silent command to Matthew. "The boy, Merlin is his name? He was looking through my library, and took a book."

Matthew blinked. How could he have known that?

"You said the guards were too close," Gwaine continued. "Too close to what?"

"To put it simply, the truth," Isaiah replied. There was something about his demeanor that Matthew did not like. He was too calm, too relaxed. Of course, Isaiah had been the head councilor for many years and was very used to his job, but to Matthew tonight he seemed too relaxed, talked too freely, as if he had nothing to fear of these two men who had broken into his home and had found two dead men in his back room. Something about this made Matthew nervous. He raised his cup again, but again Gwaine pushed his arm down.

"What are you talking about?" Gwaine demanded.

"My friends," Isaiah said, turning to them. "Perhaps you should know. They have been here for so long, waiting, watching, biding their time. But they are powerful, and beautiful, and do not deserve to be dying as they are. They deserve to be alive, and free, and fearless. They deserve to rule the water as we do the land. They deserve to be restored."

Matthew's eyes grew wide as he listened to Isaiah talk. What was he babbling about?

Gwaine's eyes narrowed.

"Who is '_they'?_" the knight asked, cautiously. Isaiah's cloudy blue eyes met the knight's dark ones and he smiled almost wolfishly.

"The mermaids," he said. Matthew blanched, felt the blood draining away from his face. Isaiah stepped forward and placed a hand on the younger fisherman's hand, which held the drink and urged it up towards the man's lips.

"Please, Brother Matthew, Sir Gwaine, enjoy the ale. It is most excellent."

Suddenly, Gwaine bumped hard against the table, causing the jug of ale to topple onto the floor. Isaiah leaned over to pick it back up, and the knight made his move. Roughly, he shoved the old man over and grabbed Matthew by the wrist, causing him to drop the cup of ale, which spilled onto the stone floor.

Matthew gaped at the old man who was struggling to rise, but didn't have any time to help him. Gwaine dragged him away, and before the old fisherman knew it they were running out of the house and down the steep winding path down the hill.

"What was that?" Matthew asked when they reached the place where the road began to level out near the town itself.

"The ale was poisoned," Gwaine told him. "Aconite. I could smell it. I think old Isaiah's been talking with the fish a little too much."

"But what was he saying about the mermaids?" Matthew asked. "About them being restored?"

"I don't know," Gwaine replied darkly. "But I think Merlin's right. Arthur is in trouble. Come on."

He beckoned for the fisherman to follow him, and the two men set off at a fast pace down the cobbled stone streets to the dock that was only just visible in the fog. Matthew was rattled, having survived an attempt by his leader to poison him. He had always considered Isaiah an old man whom he didn't particularly like, but he had never, _ever_ in all his days felt threatened by him. But this….to have almost been poisoned….it was almost too much for him to bear.

He stumbled as his feet slipped on the stones and barely caught himself. Gwaine turned and waited for him to catch his balance again.

"You alright?" the knight asked. Matthew shook his head.

"No," he replied honestly. "Isaiah just tried to _poison_ us!"

"I know," Gwaine answered, a sparkle in the man's dark eyes. "It's been a while since someone's tried that on me."

"But what about King Arthur and Merlin?" Matthew asked despondently. "They could be dead by now!"

"It seems the way Isaiah was talking about it that they may need Arthur for their return somehow," Gwaine ventured, beginning to make his way down the dark and deserted streets again. Matthew followed, more careful this time about where he put his feet.

"How could they use him to do that?" Matthew wondered, confused. Gwaine shook his head.

"I won't pretend to know," the knight answered. "Magic is dark like that."

"How will be able to find them?"

"Merlin and I were near the rocks when we were attacked," the knight said. "We should start there. Best bet."

The fisherman nodded in agreement, but paused and glanced over his shoulder back at the town behind him. He was still rather shaken about what had just happened. No one had ever tried to poison him before, and he'd never, ever, thought that the leader of the village where he'd grown up would try to do so. He also had never thought that Isaiah would be the type of person to murder two guards of Camelot. What was going on in this town?

He felt a hand tug on his arm and he looked back around to find Gwaine looking pointedly at him.

"Come on," he said. "We don't have much time."

Matthew nodded shakily and hurried after the knight.

* * *

For the second time that day, Merlin had ended up being dragged bodily into the water. He had to admit, he was _not_ enjoying it.

After Arabell had proclaimed proudly that Merlin would help her bring back her species, she had grabbed him by the arm before he could protest and had thrown him into the pool amongst her "sisters". The two who had originally deposited Arthur on the ground reclaimed their kingly prize and Merlin had been given to the "care" of two others: one with light blue skin and silver hair, the other with sea-foam green skin and black hair. Together, they had pulled the warlock, kicking and struggling into the cold, salty water. A  
splash and a passing glimpse of two human feet and the flourish of a gown heralded the entrance of Arabell into the water. The human-mermaid, despite her lack of a tail at the moment, sped past her sisters without any trouble. Merlin struggled in the arms of his two captors, but realized that they were dragging him into some sub-aquatic tunnel. If they released him down here, he would become trapped and may not have the time to find an escape before his air ran out. That grim thought in mind, Merlin quit his struggling altogether and instead latched onto to two mermaids dragging him along through the water, determined not to be left behind.

He was shocked at just how quickly these creatures could swim, as the rocky growths in this underwater tunnel shot past him as he was dragged helplessly along. Arabell stayed well ahead of he and the mermaids, and Merlin watched as she suddenly shot upwards in a flurry of bubbles. Merlin, too, was yanked upwards by two pairs of arms, and his head broke the surface as water sprayed around him. He gasped, sucking in air and thankful that he hadn't been left alone in the possibly unending underwater catacombs.

Arthur was once again deposited unceremoniously on the floor, and Merlin glanced worriedly at the blonde. He still hadn't stirred, and Merlin was beginning to hope that something wasn't wrong with him.

"Get out," Arabell commanded as she climbed easily from this new access pool. The mermaids released Merlin and he did his best to follow Arabell, but his extraction from the water was much less graceful. Arabell caught his arm as he slipped and dragged him upright to stand beside her.

They were standing in a place that looked fundamentally like where they had been only moments before. Like the previous cave, the walls of this chamber were also lit by a strange, eerie blue-green light.

"Where are we?" he asked, glancing around. The human-mermaid half-smiled.

"Just down from where we were," she said, nodding over Merlin's shoulder. The boy gaped at her.

"We could have _walked_ here?" he demanded. Arabell smiled sweetly.

"Yes. But I miss swimming."

She smirked at his expression, but moved on before he could argue with her anymore. She turned and held a hand out, one thin finger pointed over Merlin's shoulder back towards the pool where the other mermaids now gathered.

"Look," she said.

Merlin turned his head slowly and for the first time began to register a sharp, humming noise that had filled his ears. No, not his ears. His _head_. It was like the feeling, the sound he'd heard when he'd first encountered the Alchemist's Stone or the Crystal of Neahtid. It was a feeling of powerful magic, and one he didn't overly enjoy.

His eyes came to rest on a rock that jutted from below the water, rising up from the depths, like some strange, natural pedestal. Resting atop of it was the source of the blue-green light Merlin had noticed earlier. Merlin's eyes widened as he stared at it. How had he not seen it when he'd first been brought here?

Placed reverently atop the rocky pedestal was a shard of crystal, about the size of his fist. It didn't look magnificent (except for the glow emanating from within), but Merlin could _feel_ it power. He licked his lips as he stared at it, entranced despite his apprehension of the creatures that still held him and Arthur captive.

The mermaids gathered around the crystal began to grow excited, though they kept their distance from it in reverence, circling the rock pedestal and chattering amongst each other in strange, lilting snatches of chirruping words and song that Merlin supposed was their language. Arabell chattered at them and they grew quiet. Something moved to Merlin's right, but he barely noticed, transfixed by the crystal before him.

"What…what is it?" he asked, his voice hushed. Arabell stood beside him and gazed proudly at the artifact before them.

"Once upon a time," she said, her voice far away, recalling memories from long ago. "The mermaids were a force that ruled the sea. The humans respected us, as they should. We were a force to be reckoned with. But then we were slaughtered, and suddenly our kind was gone. But this…._this_ will bring them back again."

Merlin's eyes narrowed.

"What _is_ it?" he repeated. Arabell chuckled and stepped slowly into the water.

"An ancient relic from our past," she told him. "It goes by a name that you could never pronounce. Once it was larger than this. It is our origin, our deity. It is said that it was once created by those powerful beings that your kind calls the Priestesses of the Old Religion. Very little is known about it, but that it is a different kind of magic than that of the Earth. The Priestesses created it, and then feared it. They tossed it into the depths of the sea to rid themselves of it, but the crystal was so powerful that it _created_ its own species, a species that would harness its powers. This is where our powers are derived. It is small now, but it is powerful enough. It will bring back out kind."

Merlin shuddered at the story that Arabell had told. He knew the Priestesses were powerful but….to create their own magic, of a different _kind_? And even they had feared it. What was this magic that was powerful enough to create for itself a new species? How was that even possible?

But…there was still something that was troubling Merlin.

"What do you need _me_ for?" he asked, his cerulean eyes still locked on the glowing crystal before him, tantalizing him. He tore his gaze away to glance briefly at Arabell, his eyes wide, filled with a mixture of grim fascination and fear.

Arabell looked at him, her dark eyes now very serious.

"The crystal is powerful," she said. "But its power has been weakened over centuries of hiding. The humans destroyed much of it years ago when they destroyed my kind. Now, it is not powerful enough to complete the task of restoring our species, and with only six of us still surviving, there are too few of us to lend it the proper strength. We need someone of greater power to help us."

Merlin tried not to flinch. Arabell couldn't know about his powers, could she? How could that be? He had only used his magic briefly a few times during this visit, and never when anyone could have seen it, as usual. So how could she possibly have known?

"But _I_ can't help you," he bluffed, hoping he'd be able to make her believe him. "I don't have magic."

Arabell laughed, and the mermaids chattered excitedly nearby.

"Don't joke with us, little warlock," she said. "Don't even try to bluff your way out of it. We know who you are. We know your destiny, and your power. Why do you think you were brought here?"

"You didn't bring me here," Merlin argued. "I came here with Arthur."

"And Arthur came here because the councilors are daft old men," she replied. "Or, at least, he _thinks_ they are. But what is a man? A man is just a shell, so easily _controlled._"

Merlin swallowed hard as the pieces began falling into place. Isaiah's reluctance to see anything wrong with the disappearances, the trade issues, everything that had been going on with the villagers. Even the hiding of the wrecked ships.

"You've been controlling them?" Merlin asked, his mouth suddenly dry. Arabell shrugged.

"I don't have the power to control _all_ of them," she answered. "And I only needed one. The old one, Isaiah, I believe he is known as. The people of this village treat him like a king as it is. They listen to whatever he says. The councilors obey him no matter what. And the rest of the village was simple to control without the use of magic. Or, _much_ magic. You humans are so superstitious. A little fog and they're all shaking with fear."

Merlin recalled the fog that rolled in at the same time every night, and then went away the same time every morning. He remembered Maria's warning not to go into the fog. The townspeople were scared to death of it. Arabell was right. She didn't even need to control their minds. She got them where humans were the weakest: fear and leadership. She didn't need anything else.

"You've been controlling Isaiah since the beginning," Merlin muttered. "But what about the disappearances? Why now? You've been hiding out here for years. Why so many so quickly? You were bound to get discovered."

"That was the point," Arabell answered simply. Merlin stared at her for a moment, then realized what she was on to.

"Me," he said. "You knew I'd be suspicious."

"I knew you would do anything to protect your king," Arabell replied. "And you and I are creatures of magic. Eventually we would have found each other, one way or another."

Merlin looked away, laughing with a mix of embarrassment and annoyed anger. He couldn't believe he'd been played like this. Arabell and her kind had covered every base, playing him and Arthur just so they could put Merlin in the perfect position to use him to power their precious crystal. He couldn't believe he'd been so stupid. His curiosity had gotten the better of him.

_No,_ he told himself. _Arthur was alert to it too. He wanted to get to the bottom of this. _

But Merlin also knew that they'd used Arthur's desire to protect his people against him. They knew they'd never be able to enchant Merlin with their song because of his powers and magical immunity, but they knew that if they got Arthur, Merlin would follow to save his friend. They had it all figured out. He couldn't believe he'd been so _dense_.

He shook his head and slowly looked up at Arabell.

"You've thought of everything," he said, his eyes narrowed. "But there's one thing you can't do. You can't make me activate that crystal. I can't be enchanted by your song. And there's no way in hell that I'm bringing your species back. You've failed."

Arabell smirked.

"Failed?" she asked. "Ah, but Emrys, I don't think I have. I thought of that, too."

The mermaids suddenly became excited again, and Merlin's eyes snapped over to them. And for the first time, he noticed something. Arthur wasn't lying on the ground anymore.

Arabell's lilting song broke through their chattered conversation and Merlin twisted around to find out what she was doing, but before he could see, something that felt like a brick slammed into his ribs. Merlin gasped and fell over, the wind rushing out of his lungs. He struggled into a sitting position to find Arthur standing over him, his blue eyes emotionless and glazed over. He was under Arabell's complete control.

The warlock's eyes went to the human-mermaid, who returned the gaze.

"Very well, then, little warlock," she said. "If you won't help us, we'll _make_ you."

Arthur slowly turned his head to look at her, and she nodded to him.

"Do what you wish," she said.

* * *

**A/N:** So, Merlin's got himself in a bit of a tight spot, but then again, when does he not? Have a great weekend my friends!


	16. The Nature of Blood

**A/N:** Wow, look at this. Chapter 15. You know what this means? There's only one chapter left to go. So get ready, guys, cause we're coming down to the wire!

* * *

**Chapter 15- The Nature of Blood**

Matthew's boots slapped the water as fisherman and knight moved carefully along the sea's edge which bordered the sharp rocks of the cliff that Matthew had taken Arthur and company out on just days ago to see the view. He'd never imagined he'd be scouring these dangerous rocks now for signs of the king that had been taken captive.

"Do you know anything about these cliffs?" Gwaine asked as the two men edged themselves along the rocks. Both knew the danger of crossing too deep into the water, with the mermaids on the loose, but the rocks from the edges of the cliff stuck out in such a way that to move around them, they had to risk wading through the salty water that lapped at their boots and ankles.

"They're full of caves," Matthew told him. "I used to explore them as a child, but one day there was a rockslide and I was almost killed. Since then, no one has really been down here. It's too dangerous."

"A perfect place for a bunch of fish-women to hide," the knight replied. Matthew gasped as his foot slid and he grabbed a nearby rock to balance himself. Gwaine paused momentarily to wait for him to catch up before they moved on further through over the rocky shoreline.

The knight stopped short and Matthew almost slipped again in attempt not to run into his back.

"What?" Matthew asked, when he noticed Gwaine's dark eyes searching the rocks that they were pressed against.

"Shh," the bearded knight urged him, holding up a hand. Matthew fell silent.

"Do you hear that?" Gwaine asked. Matthew listened, but was distracted by the flickering of lights from over his shoulder, coming back the way they had come, near the docks. His eyes moved towards that direction, and he swallowed hard.

A group of men, complete with torches and pitchforks, had gathered on the shoreline, moving towards the rocks where Gwaine and Matthew now clung. They didn't look happy, either.

"Sir Gwaine…." Matthew started, his eyes locked on the party of men. Two had already been dispatched to brave the narrow shoreline and reach the fisherman and the knight.

"Quiet," Gwaine said, but Matthew wasn't listening this time.

"Sir Gwaine!" he said, grabbing the knight's arm and tugging. Gwaine's head finally turned as he looked with annoyance at the older fisherman.

"_What?"_ he asked, but his question was answered when he followed Matthew's concerned gaze.

The knight cursed colorfully.

"I was hoping it would take Isaiah a little longer before he gathered his boys," he complained. Matthew stared at the men that were still moving towards them, confused.

"But, what do they want? Are they here to help us?"

Gwaine shook his head.

"We wish," he replied. "We attacked their head councilor, remember. They're not going to be too pleased with us right now."

"We've done nothing wrong!" Matthew argued.

Gwaine didn't answer and didn't have time to even if he wanted. Two of the strong, young men that Matthew knew from the village had closed in on them, having expertly skirted the water and the rocks.

"Matthew. Sir Gwaine," one said, his eyes serious. Matthew recognized him from the village, but couldn't remember his name. He was large though, as was the other. Too large for Matthew to fight. His fighting days were well behind him. "The council wants to speak to you."

"Look, mate," Gwaine said easily. "I'm a knight of Camelot. You don't want to –"

But before he could finish the sentence, the two men made their move, one catching Matthew's arms and pulling them behind his back with big, meaty hands. The other grabbed Gwaine and pulled his hands back as well. Gwaine's captor had a slightly harder time holding onto his prize, but eventually even the knight of Camelot was subdued. Matthew glanced over towards the bearded knight, but Gwaine's eyes were steady and when he caught Matthew's gaze, he winked at him. Matthew hoped to heaven that the knight had a plan. If not, things could get….interesting.

The two men dragged their catches back up the beach where the rest of the party was waiting. Isaiah stood amongst them, and Matthew had the sudden urge to spit on the man when he saw him step forwards.

"Brother Matthew, Sir Gwaine," he said. "I'm sorry for your treatment, but the men of the town have agreed: your actions have been intolerable and must be dealt with immediately."

"You've no right, Isaiah," Matthew replied. "Gwaine is a knight of Camelot. He's under the _king_."

"And the king has gone missing," Isaiah replied. "Sad, isn't it? _I_ am the leader in this town, Matthew, don't forget that. You will both answer to _my_ rules. _Now_."

He turned, beckoned the two captors to follow. But as they stepped forward, Gwaine suddenly stumbled and fell heavily to the ground. Matthew looked down to see what had happened, and was just in time to witness Gwaine grab a fistful of sand in one hand. As Gwaine's captor reached down to drag the knight up, the long-haired man twisted, throwing the handful of sand into the man's face, then punching Matthew's captor hard in the nose. The man doubled, clutching his face, and Gwaine grabbed Matthew's arm and dragged him forward, back towards the rocky cliffs.

"Run!" the knight commanded, and Matthew didn't argue. He tore off across the beach after the knight, his boots pounding hard against the sandy shore which kept shifting and sliding under his feet. He forced himself to remain upright and run as fast as he could, but his muscles screamed with each movement.

"You said you know these caves," Gwaine said over his shoulder. "I think it's time you start remembering them!"

"R-right!" Matthew stuttered as they ran back towards the rocks. The fisherman cast a glance over his shoulder to find that the party of men was close behind and gaining quickly on them.

"Quick," he said, grabbing the knight's shirt and dragging him to the side. "In here."

Fisherman and knight dived into a crevasse within the rocks, hiding from the three men who ran past, having failed to see their prey conceal themselves. Once they were a safe distance away, Matthew lead the way back out of the rocky hole, and the two men doubled back and ran the opposite direction.

"We'll go over to the other side," Matthew said. "Over the cliff. It'll throw them off."

Gwaine gave his affirmation and the two men ran ask quickly as they could towards the road that lead up the cliff that Matthew had shown them days earlier. The party was close behind them, though they'd shaken a few. Matthew's heart was beating hard against his ribs, and his breaths were coming in great, jagged gulps. He wasn't a young man. Gwaine may be able to run like this, but Matthew was a much different person. He'd been used to dragging in nets of fish, not running for great lengths.

But his life depended on this, and the adrenaline in his veins lent him strength. Isaiah had tried to poison them before. What would he do with them if he caught them again? Matthew didn't entirely want to think about it.

Gwaine and the fisherman struggled up the steep cliff path, but Matthew made a sharp turn off it and led Gwaine down towards the other side of the jagged wedge that jutted out into the ocean. Matthew knew that side of the formation, as well, though it was much more dangerous and rocky than the side nearest the docks. He'd explored it as a child too, but there was scant little shore to walk on, and most of the caves were only accessible by climbing over the series of slippery rocks that jutted out of the water. It was a long shot, but it was all they had.

Matthew and Gwaine eventually found the cliff base, and together began to move out across the slick rocks, trying to pair speed with caution. It was a long, hard way, and Matthew found himself biting his lip so hard he drew blood. He prayed to any deity who might be listening that they would be able to get away from Isaiah's brainwashed men.

Just as Matthew slipped on another rock but caught himself, he began to hear voices above them, searching the edges of the cliff for the two men who had alluded the villagers. Matthew and Gwaine shared a look and pressed against the rocks, trying to hide themselves from those trying to find them. It was a deadly game of hide and seek, made slightly easier for the opposite side now for the fact that the sun was starting to rise, turning the sky a grey color. Soon it would be morning, and Matthew and Gwaine would lose the advantage of having the darkness to hide by.

As the voices grew louder, Matthew caught a glimpse of a gaping hole in the side of the cliff up ahead. He grabbed Gwaine's sleeve and pointed to it with a shaking finger.

"Over there!" the fisherman gasped. The knight nodded and the two climbed their way quickly over the jagged rocks. Matthew could hear the voices getting closer now, and they didn't have much time left. They made their way to the cave as quickly as they could, and by the time it was near enough, Matthew's heart was pounding, his blood rushing in his temples. They practically fell off the slick rocks and into the concealed darkness of the chamber within. Silently, the two men moved backwards, but the crevice turned out to be much smaller than Matthew had expected. They pressed themselves as far back as they could, but they could only go so far. They crouched, Matthew's heart in his throat, his breath sounding too loud in his own ears. They could hear voices above them, and the fisherman closed his eyes.

"Please," he whispered softly to no one in particular. "Please."

Gwaine shushed him, and Matthew opened an eye. The knight was staring at the entrance of the cave, and Matthew fell silent.

Footsteps sounded on the rocks outside. Fisherman and knight shared a glance as a shadow fell over the entrance to their hiding place.

They'd been found.

* * *

Arthur swung a punch, but Merlin rolled and the king's fist met nothing but solid rock. Merlin climbed to his feet and scowled at Arabell who stood a few feet away, watching with interest. Arthur took advantage of Merlin's momentary distraction and sunk his fist into the servant's stomach. Merlin doubled over and met Arabell's gaze.

"You think making Arthur beat me up will change my mind?" he demanded. He twisted as Arthur lashed out again, and again Merlin dodged. He staggered forward, but Arthur's foot was there and the servant tripped, sprawled across the ground. He rolled onto his back and saw the blonde king looming over him.

"Mmm, I guess you're right," the human-mermaid replied and raised a hand. "Arthur, stop."

The blonde king immediately lowered the fist he'd raised, his hands dropping to his sides, turning blank, blue eyes to look obediently back at Arabell. Merlin took his opportunity and scrambled to his feet, swaying slightly.

"Nothing you can do can make me activate that crystal," the warlock told the mermaid sharply. Arabell shrugged.

"I do enjoy a challenge," she said. "We'll see."

She turned her head to her sisters, and chattered a series of strange sounds to them. They chattered back, their voices excited and happy, like a bunch of children promised sweets. A few even bounced excitedly up and down in the water.

"What are you doing?" Merlin asked, eyes narrowed. Arabell didn't answer, but held out a hand to Arthur.

"Come here, little king," she cooed. Arthur obediently stepped forward to stand beside her, like a sleepwalker. Merlin stood still, watching.

"I suppose you have been reading about us," she said. "And about our eating habits. My sisters are perpetually hungry. We eat many things, but human males _do_ have the best flavor. And I'm sure royal blood would taste even better."

Merlin felt the blood drain away from his face. Arabell took Arthur's hand and led him towards the water, and he followed her willingly. Like a bride and groom, they walked hand-in-hand, until eventually, they were both halfway submerged. Then Arabell released Arthur's hand, and the others gathered around him, singing and chattering, edging their way towards the king, flashing razor-sharp teeth as they sized up their prey.

"Wait –" Merlin started, but Arabell's eyes flashed as she turned back to the warlock before her.

"The time for waiting it over," she snapped. "I know that beating you won't get me what I want. Torture won't. Bribery won't. But I know your destiny. I know you'd do anything for your precious king. So be it, little warlock. My sisters are always hungry. If you refuse, it will take them seconds to kill your friend here, and you can watch as they tear him apart and devour him. Do what I wish and I will let him go. Power up the crystal, bring my species back, and I won't harm him. Refuse me and you can watch as your king is destroyed. Your choice."

Merlin's cerulean eyes grew wide with horror. The mermaids gathered around Arthur, clinging to him, snapping at the air with their teeth, chattering and giggling in high, lilting tones that sounded like dangerously, sweetly mad children. He saw their talon-like claws flash, saw the hints of dried blood on their teeth. He knew what they could do.

But to bring back an entire species of blood-thirsty man eaters? Could he live with that on his conscience? They'd kill and kill and kill again. They'd feast on men. How could he let them do that? How could he bring them back?

But how could he let Arthur be devoured by them?

He was sworn to protect the king. It was his destiny. But did his destiny mean that he would have to bring back an ancient race of bloodthirsty killers just to save the man he was born to protect?

His brain racked itself for an answer. Meanwhile, Arabell watched him carefully and the other mermaids giggled with excitement and anticipation. One was even drooling.

Suddenly, he recalled something.

"_Wait," _he said, causing Arabell's eyes to narrow with suspicion.

"What?" she demanded.

"You said the crystal was made from a different type of magic. My magic is connected to the Old Religion. How do you know they'd be compatible?"

"This magic was born of the Old Religion," Arabell snapped. "It may be a different kind, but all magic is connected. And you are Emrys. You control _all_ magic."

Merlin swallowed hard, realizing his last and only argument had just been shot down. He stared at Arthur in the water, surrounded by hungry man-eaters who wanted nothing more than to taste the blood of a king on their tongues. Then he looked at the crystal that sat on the pedestal, beckoning him, ready to bring back the species it had created. His mind raced.

"Tick-tock, warlock," Arabell teased. "I won't wait forever."

Merlin's eyes flickered between king and crystal. To let his king, and his friend, be torn apart by these beats was unthinkable. But was to unleash a bloodthirsty species back onto the world even worse?

But the world had survived these creatures once. If the world lost Arthur, there was no telling what would happen.

Merlin sighed. The choice was made for him, and he couldn't escape it.

"Let him go," he said, his voice low and helpless. "I will help you."

A smile tugged at Arabell's lips.

"Excellent," she murmured. With a chatter of words, the mermaids released Arthur, screeching their disappointment. Arabell helped the sleepwalking king out of the water and back onto the cave floor. She released his hand and held the same one out to Merlin.

"When – when I've done it," he started. "Will you release Arthur?"

Arabell nodded.

"Of course," she told him, her hand still held out to him. Merlin glanced back at Arthur, but knew he didn't have much of a choice. If he refused, there'd be nothing to stop Arabell from tearing them both to pieces.

The warlock held out his hand and took Arabell's. Her skin felt cold and damp against his, and she led him towards the pool like a mother leading her child. Merlin didn't resist. He knew there was nothing he could do.

Gently, Arabell led him into the water, and the mermaids parted as they passed through, Arabell holding Merlin up when his feet couldn't touch bottom anymore. Eventually, he grabbed hold of the pedestal and Arabell released him.

"Do it," she whispered. "Bring back my people. Revive my kind."

Merlin licked his lips and reached forward with one hand and rested it on the crystal. It felt warm to the touch, and as soon as his skin met its smooth surface, a tingling sensation shot up his arm. He almost yanked it back, but held himself firm. Carefully, he closed his eyes. Slowly, he wrapped his fingers around the crystal, clutching it in his fist.

He had one chance.

He wasn't going to bring the mermaids back. Not today.

With a blast of his magic, he hurled the crystal deeper in the cave. Arabell screamed and Merlin turned, jumping forward in a desperate attempt to get out of the water. But his wet clothes and waning strength kept him back, and his body was slammed back against the pedestal by a mermaid that was not Arabell. She hissed in his face and bared her teeth, ready to rip out his throat. He'd done it now. He was as good as dead.

Just as her teeth made their way for his throat, there was a crumbling sound and something shot past Merlin, burying itself into the mermaid's flesh. She shrieked, and clawed at her side, and Merlin held onto the pedestal as she tried to drag a sword from its position deep in her body. Black blood oozed into the water as she sank. Thinking quickly, Merlin grabbed the sword out of the creature's side and struck out towards shore, slashing at another mermaid that threw herself at him. He sliced the metal sword across her arm ad managed to drag himself from the water. Two arms helped pull him to shore and to his feet, then grabbed the sword from his hands. Merlin's eyes went to the face of his rescuer and he found himself staring into Gwaine's dark eyes.

"Gwaine!" he gasped. The bearded knight smiled broadly at him.

"Merlin, mate," he said cheerily. "Have a nice swim?"

Merlin didn't have time to reply as Gwaine pushed him back and aimed his sword at another mermaid who had attempted to launch herself at Merlin while his back was turned. The knight made quick work of her, and Merlin spun to see two others in the cave, fighting the creatures that had attacked him and Arthur. Merlin smiled. It was Leon, apparently back from his expedition, and Matthew, armed with someone's, most likely Leon's spare dagger.

"Leon!" Merlin gasped in greeting. The knight nodded to the servant as he swung his sword at another mermaid.

"Good to see you, Merlin," he said. Matthew said nothing and mostly stood back, looking stunned and slightly unsure of the dagger in his hand.

A flash of dark hair caught the warlock's attention, and he turned quickly enough to see Arabell running into the caves in the direction Merlin had sent the crystal. The warlock ran after her, his boots pounding on the hard stone floor. He wasn't letting her get away with that.

She ran ahead of him, but Merlin, in a brief burst of speed, leaped forward and tackled her to the ground. The two rolled over each other, and Arabell's foot landed hard in Merlin's face, breaking his grip on her. She stood, stomped hard on his hand and was running once more. Merlin winced at his bruised knuckles, but gathered himself and ran after her once more. In the distance, he could make out the faint glow of the crystal. He was _not_ going to let her get to it.

**"Forp fleoge!" **he said, sending a wave of magic crashing into the human-mermaid. She went toppling, landing hard on the ground. Merlin ran beyond her, leaping over her body and running towards the crystal that he could see was so tantalizingly close. He scooped it up into his hands.

"No!" Arabell screamed and launched herself at him. Merlin's breath was knocked out of him as she flung him to the floor. His grasp on the crystal was broken, and, to both of their horrors, the glowing artifact flew from the warlock's hands, tossed into the air. Both watched in stunned silence as the crystal arched lower, finally having its descent stopped by a jagged stalagmite that grew from the cave floor. The impact was too much for the ancient relic, and with a sound like glass breaking, it shattered, its pieces falling to the ground.

For a moment, both warlock and mermaid, still on top of each other, stared at the broken relic in silence. The glow slowly dimmed, then vanished altogether.

"_NO!_" Arabell screamed, climbing to her feet. She hit Merlin hard in the ribs as he tried to grab her, and he let go. She staggered over to the broken crystal and collapsed by it, gathering its shards into her hands as if she was trying to piece it back together,

_"NO!_" she screamed again, and then burst into sobs, the pieces she'd collected falling from her fingers like rain. Suddenly, her breathing changed, as she started taking air in great gulps. As Merlin watched, her body began to twist and morph, the human skin that had been pale and perfect became light-green tinted. Her teeth, bared in the pain she felt for the shattering of her precious crystal grew bloodstained and more pointed. Her finger nails lengthened and became black talons. And her legs grew together, turning from separate appendages to one, long scaled fish's tail.

Merlin staggered to his feet and limped over to her, stiff and covered in bruises. He stood over the mermaid and looked down at her. He knew what had happened. The crystal had given her magic. Now that it was broken, she had nothing left.

"It's over," he said. "Your crystal's gone."

Arabell furiously wiped tears from her eyes as she stared at the crystal before her. Her breathing was ragged and wet, as she fought to take in the air. Despite her physical struggle and her loss of magic, she laughed, the sound coarse and filled with fury. She looked up at him, her eyes flashing. Merlin saw a deep, seething sadness behind the dark irises. She'd lost. And she knew it.

"Fine," she hissed. "Congratulations, Emrys. You've won."

She shook her head and picked up a few shards of the crystal again as she gazed down at it. A few tears fell from her eyes and landed heavily on the ground.

"You did it," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "You succeeded in wiping out the mermaid species. Congratulations."

Merlin shook his head and crouched down beside her, suddenly feeling sorry for the creature that sat hunched before him.

"No," he said. "You still have your sisters."

"They're dead," she said. "I can feel it. Your friends have killed them. All of them. Just like you wanted. Just like all of humanity wanted."

She let the crystal shards fall from her fingers again.

"And now I'm the last. So, Emrys, I'm at your mercy. I can't even run away. Go ahead. Kill me."

She twisted herself to face him, spreading out her arms.

"Kill me. The last mermaid in existence. Go on. I know you want to. Kill me, and human kind will never have to worry about creatures like me again. _Your_ precious species will be saved by getting rid of _my_ species. Just like humans do. They slaughter. That's _all_ they do."

Merlin shook his head.

"That's not true," he said. "Humans are _so_ much more than that."

Arabell laughed hoarsely.

"I've yet to see it," she replied. "What are you waiting for? Kill me. Be rid of my kind for eternity. It doesn't matter. It's your _nature._"

Merlin knew she was right. If he did kill her, the world would be safe from creatures like her, who feasted on human flesh. Men wouldn't have to fear things like this in the water. One less threat to mankind.

But as he stared at her, he knew he could never kill her. She was wrong. Humans were about more than killing to save their species. _He_ was about more than that. He couldn't kill her. He couldn't be the cause of an entire species' demise.

Besides, killing and eating was her nature. It wasn't her fault that she was made this way. He didn't have the right to play judge and jury. It how she was made, _her_ nature.

It was time to ask himself what _his_ nature was.

"What are you waiting for?" she demanded, her eyes shining with anger and tears. "Get it over with."

Merlin took a deep breath, and raised a hand, palm towards her, as if he was going to use his magic to kill her. She looked away, obviously preparing herself. Then, slowly, he lowered his hand and took one of hers in it. She winced and looked down. Merlin watched her carefully.

"I'm not going to kill you," he said. "You're wrong. Humans are _much_ more than killers. You don't deserve to die."

She stared at him, obviously not trusting his words.

"What type of trick is this?" she demanded. Merlin shook his head.

"No trick," he promised. "I'll let you go free."

Arabell's eyes narrowed.

"I don't believe you," she snarled. Merlin shrugged.

"That's your decision," he replied. Her breathing was becoming worse as she struggled to draw air into lungs made for pulling oxygen from water. He knew she was running out of time.

Carefully, he wrapped his arms around her body. She struggled slightly, but he held on, lifted her into his arms. She was lighter than he'd expected, but he still struggled under her weight. She clung to his neck, obviously still unbelieving, and not trusting him to grip her well enough. With some difficulty, Merlin carried her into the cave, to where she had first brought him. By the time he reached the access pool, she was gasping, like a fish in the bottom of a boat. Carefully, he crouched down and released her into the water.

"See?" he asked, as she plunged into the pool's cool blue depths. "Not all humans are alike."

He watched as she surfaced once more, her dark eyes locking with his.

"I still don't believe you, Emrys," she snarled, flashing sharp, stained teeth. "Maybe you are different, but you humans are all alike deep down. You condemn my species for hunting the way we do. But my species just kills for food, to survive. Yours kills for so much more."

Merlin opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, she dived into the water, a green, scaled flash and cut through the blueness like a knife. With one last flash of her tail, she was gone.

Merlin took a deep breath and slowly stood. Stiff and sore, cold and exhausted, he limped back through the caverns to where Gwaine, Leon, and Matthew stood. Leon was supporting Arthur, who had apparently been knocked unconscious when the mermaid's spell had been broken.

As Arabell had predicted, the five bodies of the last mermaids lay across the stone floor, still and silent. They were dead. Merlin stared sadly at them, recalling Arabell's angry words.

Human nature.

"Merlin!" Gwaine greeted, breaking Merlin's dark thoughts. "What happened? Where's the one you ran off with?"

"She's gone," Merlin replied flatly. "You won't see her again."

"Ha! Good!" the knight clapped a frightened-looking Matthew on his back, and turned around to face Arthur, who was half draped over Leon's shoulder.

"Will he be okay?" Merlin asked, coming over to inspect the unconscious king. Leon nodded.

"I think so," he replied. "What happened to him?"

"I think he was knocked out when the mermaid's spell broke," Merlin answered, after a quick inspection of Arthur showed that the blonde was still breathing and had a steady pulse. His eyes rested on Leon for a minute, before he began to wonder where the knight had come from.

"Leon, why are you here?" Merlin asked with interest.

"I came back late last night," the knight replied. "Heard that Gwaine and Matthew had gone off to visit Isaiah. But I found them someplace a little….different."

Merlin's forehead creased in confusion.

"What?" he asked. Gwaine smiled wryly.

"It's a long story," the long-haired knight answered.

Suddenly, Merlin's exhaustion caught up with him, and the warlock's knees buckled under him. Gwaine caught him and steadied him. The servant glanced between the small group gathered down in the caves below Halen.

"Could it wait for later?" he asked. Gwaine laughed.

"Of course, mate," he replied. "I think I've had enough of the sea for a while. But, this does remind me of the time when – "

_"Gwaine,"_ Leon, Matthew, and Merlin all said at once, stopping the knight before he could get started. The long-haired man pouted.

"And that was a _good_ story, too," he argued.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, happy Monday. Friday will the _the last_ chapter of this story! I really hope you've enjoyed it!


	17. The Last Mermaid

**A/N:** Last chapter, guys!

* * *

**Chapter 16-The Last Mermaid**

Merlin woke late in the afternoon. He was back at the inn, lying on the bed in the room he shared with Arthur. He stared at the ceiling for a long time, thinking about what Arabell had said to him before she had disappeared. He wondered if she was right. Was human nature just to kill?

After all, there was Morgana who seemed to be bent on killing everyone who didn't agree with her. And there was Aggravaine, who seemed to want to help her. Morgause had killed, too. Cenred's army had decimated so many. Bandits had killed Merlin's own father. Arthur's knights had killed Freya, the only girl he'd ever loved. Raiders had killed many people in his own home village of Ealdor. Nimueh had killed dozens of people, too. All this death. Was Arabell right? Did humans only kill?

But as Merlin thought through his life, he remembered the time that _hadn't_ involved killing. He recalled Gaius's kind words and fatherly care. He remembered the friends he'd made in Camelot. The time when Nimueh had poisoned him, and Arthur put his life on the line to save the servant he'd only just met. He recalled Morgana, when she was good, helping those who needed help. He recalled Gwen's gentle heart, and the friendships between the knights.

Merlin smiled to himself. Humanity wasn't near perfect. Humans had a lot of issues. But once in a while, they could do something good. Merlin could only hope that he'd be able to remember that.

Slowly, the warlock rolled to his feet, wincing at the bruises he'd sustained from his adventure the night before. He was sore and stiff, but he had to admit, he had witnessed something amazing. The last of the mermaids. No one had seen them in hundreds of years, but he had. And he'd witnessed _the last_ mermaid on earth. Maybe a few bruises weren't that bad.

He made his way down the stairs to the tavern where Arthur and the others were gathered. Matthew was there, along with Urie and Maria. Merlin noticed that though Leon and Gwaine were present, the two guards were still missing. He wondered what had happened to them.

"Ah, Merlin," Arthur said, acknowledging his servant. "Glad to see you're alive."

"Yeah, you too," Merlin answered with a smile as he joined the others down on the ground floor. Gwaine slid him a tankard of ale, which Merlin gratefully accepted. Hopefully the alcohol would take the edge off his bruises.

"What's going on?" the warlock asked. Arthur took another drink from his own tankard.

"Matthew here said that they went to find Isaiah this morning," the blonde responded once he'd swallowed. "But he was dead."

"Probably happened when the mermaid's power over him broke," Merlin told them. "It knocked you out, Arthur. I guess Isaiah was just too old to withstand it."

Arthur nodded thoughtfully.

"I guess so," he agreed. "But Matthew, what happens to the council now?"

"I don't know," the older man admitted. "We'll have to declare a new leader. We haven't had to do that for many years."

"Will you convene the councilors today so we can discuss it?" Arthur asked. Matthew nodded.

"Of course, Sire," he said. Arthur nodded.

"Good man," he said.

"Your Highness?" a quiet voice asked. The others around the table turned to find Maria looking worriedly at Arthur.

"Yes?" Arthur replied gently.

"The mermaids…" the girl asked nervously. "Are they…gone?"

Arthur smiled and glanced at the knights and Merlin.

"I don't think you'll have anything to worry about," he assured her.

* * *

Unfortunately for Merlin, he found that their stay in Halen was far from over. Arthur met with the council, helping them draw up a plan of succession in order to replace Isaiah, and so in the future they'd be able to easily instate new head councilors. In the end, a new man was elected the head of the council, a man named Jamar. Merlin didn't know him, but he had won a large portion of the votes so he assumed there had to be some positive characteristics to recommend him.

After the council had received a new head, the meetings had taken a sharp turn. Matthew was voted off the council, despite Arthur's protests. But even the king had to admit that the town heads had the right to decide who should be among their leaders, and the leaders of Halen had unanimously decided that Matthew was not worthy.

Despite the setback of Matthew's expulsion from the committee, Arthur still had to proceed with trade negotiations. With the delegate Leon had successfully brought back from Mercier, the council had slowly and painstakingly started drawing out a compromise between the two kingdoms. Jamar was more lenient to the trade situation that Isaiah had been, and eventually the two sides had come to an agreement.

Two days later, the Camelot party was looking at success and a chance to return home.

As Arthur wrapped up a few last unfinished issues with the council, Merlin took a break from preparing the horses and came back inside the inn, where he found Matthew sitting alone at the bar nursing a tankard of ale.

Merlin crossed over to the old man and took a seat beside him. The fisherman looked over at the servant and smiled, but Merlin noticed how tired the man's eyes looked. It seemed as though he'd aged three years.

"I don't understand why they got rid of you," Merlin said. "Even after Arthur tried to explain about _why_ you broke into Isaiah's home. I don't understand. They should be _commending_ you."

Matthew chuckled softly.

"The council would never commend me," he answered. "They still don't believe there were mermaids, even though we had eyewitnesses. Isaiah assured them there weren't any, and to them, his word was as good as a king's. I was seen standing against him, and therefor I was unworthy of standing amongst them.

"Besides," he continued. "The council was forced to accept me as a member because my father was a councilor, and sons of councilors always become councilors when their fathers die. But they've never liked me."

"Why not?" Merlin asked. Matthew shook his head.

"When I was a young man…." He started, but trailed off. "It doesn't matter."

Merlin nodded, accepting that Matthew had a past that he didn't feel comfortable talking about.

"But what will you do now?" the servant wondered. Matthew shrugged.

"I'll leave this place," Matthew replied. "I'll take my daughter, Maria, with me. Her mother has been dead for years. It's time to leave here, find a new life, a new home. This town just doesn't fit us anymore."

"You could come to Camelot with us," Merlin suggested. Matthew chuckled but shook his head.

"it's a nice offer," he replied. "But the sea is my home, and I'd hate to be away from it. Don't you worry about us, Merlin. You have a king to protect."

Merlin rolled his eyes and sighed. There was more truth in that statement that Matthew knew.

The door swung open behind them, and Merlin turned in his seat to find that Arthur had walked in.

"Merlin," the blonde said, spying his servant. "I hope you're not just sitting around. Are the horses ready?"

Merlin made a face at Matthew, who hid his smile in his tankard.

"Yes, Arthur," he replied. "They're ready."

"Good. Because we're ready to ride out."

Merlin nodded and slid off the barstool. He held his hand out to Matthew, who took it and shook it warmly.

"Thank you, Matthew," he said. "It was nice to meet you."

"Thank _you_," Matthew said. "Without you and Arthur, we'd still be plagued by those mermaids. I don't know how you did it, but you did."

Merlin laughed and turned, just as Arthur crossed over to the old fisherman. He, too, held out his hand, which Matthew took and shook.

"Thank you, Matthew," he said. "I'm sorry about what the council did to you."

"It's of no matter," Matthew assured him. "I did what I had to, to protect my village. I have nothing to regret."

Arthur smiled.

"I could use men like you in Camelot," he said. Matthew shook his head.

"Like I said to Merlin," he replied. "The sea is my home. I can't leave her."

Arthur nodded.

"If you ever need anything," he told the fisherman. "Let me know, and you'll have it."

"Thank you, my lord," he said, and bowed. Arthur clapped the man on the shoulder, then turned and led Merlin out into the fresh salty air. Since the crystal had been broken, the fog hadn't returned. Merlin could tell that the townspeople were much happier now.

"Merlin," Arthur suddenly said, pausing beside his horse. Merlin turned to look at the blonde.

"Yes, Arthur?" he said, unsure of what he would say.

"I wanted to say," the blonde started. "Thank you. Matthew told me what you did, that you came after me. I think it was the stupidest thing you've ever done, but it was brave. You're a true friend."

Merlin blinked, slightly stunned. He couldn't believe Arthur had actually _thanked_ him for something.

"Just doing my duty, Sire," he replied. "You know, doing your laundry, grooming your horse and saving your backside."

Arthur glared at his servant.

"'_Saving my backside'?_" he repeated slowly. Merlin smiled, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Gwaine and Leon come over to join them. The Mercier delegate would stay in town a few days to make sure there weren't any issues, and then Arthur would dispatch a guard to escort the man back to his own country. With the two guards gone (Merlin had learned that Gwaine and Matthew had found them dead) they'd need both Leon and Gwaine for safety's sake. They weren't expecting trouble, but one could never tell.

"That's right," Merlin replied with a grin. Arthur stuck a finger pointedly in Merlin's face.

"You can't find your own backside with both hands, _Mer_lin," Arthur told him. "I don't think you're near capable of _saving_ mine."

"You'd be surprised," Merlin replied, knowing that Arthur was joking. Arthur rolled his eyes and swung up onto his horse.

"Someone's got to look after ungrateful cabbageheads like you," Merlin continued, mounting his own horse.

"Ungrateful _what_?" Arthur challenged as the Camelot party turned their mounts and began to ride together through Halen. Merlin smiled.

"You heard me."

Arthur glowered at him.

A thought suddenly struck Merlin. He glanced over at Arthur.

"Did you kiss her?" Merlin asked. Arthur glanced back over at his servant, eyes part way between confused and utterly annoyed.

"Kiss _who_?" he demanded.

"Arabell. Did you kiss her? You two spent quite a lot of time together."

Merlin had seen the glare Arthur used now to cow many a man in his service, but Merlin was completely immune. He could barely keep himself from laughing aloud.

"I told you," the blonde replied. "I don't remember _anything_ from when I was under her control."

"_Sure_." Merlin said, nodding conspiratorially. "I'm sure you don't."

Arthur glared daggers at his servant, but Merlin was still immune.

"Merlin?" he said. Merlin looked at Arthur and raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, Sire?" he asked innocently. Arthur took one had from the reigns of his horse and pointed at Merlin again.

"You breathe one word of what happened here to Gwen and I will use you as a punching bag for training."

Merlin shrugged.

"You do that already."

_"You know what I mean!"_

Merlin laughed as the Camelot party rode together, the friendly banter picking back up where it had left off when Arthur had been taken over by Arabell. Despite their light argument about what had happened when Arthur had been under the mermaid's spell, the warlock knew he had gotten off lucky. He knew that Arthur hadn't remembered anything from his time under Arabell's control, and that was good. If Athur had heard what Arabell had said in the caves about Merlin's magic, or seen what Merlin had done to the crystal, he'd have been in big trouble.

But, since Arthur _didn't_ remember any of it, it was perfect material for Merlin to tease him about later. Merlin smiled to himself.

"Wipe that grin off your face, Merlin," Arthur muttered, then kicked his horse to trot ahead of the warlock. The black-haired servant laughed and spurred his own horse on to keep up. He glanced over as Gwaine and Leon got in on the action, driving their own horses to catch up with Arthur's. Pretty soon, they were all racing out of Halen.

Merlin suddenly noticed they were riding past the cliff overlooking the rocks where he'd first seen a glimpse of a mermaid when they'd come to Halen. He wondered which one it had been, what her name had been. He hadn't even known Arabell's real name.

Glancing ahead, he slowed his horse as he rode over the cliff, paused for a moment to look down at the water that lapped against the shore.

And, just for a brief moment, he thought for certain he saw a green tail flash between the rocks before slipping back beneath the seawater. He smiled to himself.

The last mermaid on Earth, safe beneath the waves.

"Merlin, you coming back there?" he heard Gwaine call. The servant looked up to see the Camelot party stopped several yard ahead looking back, waiting for him. Merlin laughed.

"Yeah, I'm coming!" he called, kicking his horse into a canter to catch up with the others. Arthur fixed Merlin with a look.

"I said next time we're just going to leave you behind," Arthur said.

"But you didn't," Merlin reminded him. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Shut up, _Mer_lin," he replied, then turned back around in the saddle and kicked his horse into a gallop. Merlin was right behind him, falling back in line quickly. Gwaine and Leon followed and the Camelot party laughed as they raced through the woods.

Merlin glanced over his shoulder once more at the cliff that was quickly disappearing into the distance. Maybe someday he'd see Arabell again.

_Till then,_ he thought with a smile, then turned back around in the saddle and followed the others as they started the long trip back to Camelot, and – hopefully – some normality.

But he knew that was asking too much.

**The End**

* * *

**A/N:** Well, that's it. I have to say, writing this story was incredibly fun, and hearing your comments on it was even better! I'd like to thank everyone who followed it all the way through, and everyone who commented and offered their ideas and corrections as the story went along. You have no idea how much your words mean to me! You guys are amazing!

Anyways, don't worry, you'll see more from me soon. I may be taking a short break from _Merlin_, and trying something else out, but I have several more ideas! See you next time. ;)


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